


we'll make our home on the water

by bayloriffic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post Finale, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some reason, Emma thought they’d pass through the portal and end up right at Neverland. Instead, they spend weeks aboard the <em>Jolly Roger</em>, sailing the vast blue-green oceans with no land in sight, the water seeming to stretch on forever all around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For some reason, Emma thought they’d pass through the portal and end up right at Neverland. Instead, they spend what feels like forever aboard the _Jolly Roger_ , sailing the vast blue-green oceans, no land in sight, the water stretching on endlessly all around them.

After a while she loses track of how long they’ve been there. It could be weeks, it could be months. There don’t seem to be any seasons, and the weather is always the same, every day sunny and bright and warm, the cloudless sky a tranquil, azure blue. 

It should be peaceful, and it is, at first. But then it starts to get to her. It's just, Emma didn’t realize just how quiet it would be on the water, how once there were no televisions or iPods or cell phones, that things would just be silent. It bothers her more than she thought it would, that oppressive, endless silence that makes her feel nervous and on edge. 

There are only four cabins below deck. For the first few days, Emma stays with David and Mary Margaret, but the cabin is very small, just a narrow set of bunk beds recessed into the wall and about two square feet of floor space. It gets very cramped, very fast.

Emma ends up moving in with Regina after that, figuring that between Hook's leering innuendoes and Gold's barely contained anger, she’s actually the lesser of the three evils. 

The first few days are rough, both of them adjusting to being around each other that much, sharing the same space and putting up with each others’ annoying little habits. But they get into a rhythm surprisingly fast and it’s about a million times better than those first couple of nights crammed into David and Mary Margaret’s room. 

Besides, other than the occasional snide remark, Regina’s a surprisingly good roommate. She’s neat and she doesn’t snore and before too long, she and Emma become, well, not friends exactly, but not not-friends either. 

Those first couple of days are pretty busy anyway, all them learning how to crew the ship -- finding their sea legs and guiding the rigging and manning the helm -- so by the time they all go below deck for the night, they’re so exhausted they don’t really have the energy to argue with each other.

At first, it’s kind of exciting, an adventure, but eventually they all start to get bored and frustrated, the endless, unchanging sailing making them all annoyed and snappish. 

Even David and Mary Margaret start arguing, their united front seeming to crumble in the face of the endless days at sea. Hook spends hours pouring over his maps, mumbling things about directions and currents and tide changes, and Emma can tell something’s not right, that they should have gotten where they need to be by now. Gold spends most of his time below deck in his own cabin, only venturing up above board a couple of times a day to pace around the perimeter of the deck, the repetitive tap of his cane sometimes the only thing that breaks the silence for hours at a time. 

For their part, she and Regina spend their time carefully not talking about Henry. They take turns cooking meals for everyone and keeping the cabins neat and orderly, both of them driven by this kind of quiet desperation to do something, anything, to make it feel like they’re not just wasting their time floating endlessly in the sea while their son is trapped somewhere far away.

*

Emma’s not sure how long they’ve been at sea when they finally catch a glimpse of the island, just a vague green blur that breaks the endless sea of blue, but just the sight of it is like a shot of adrenaline, and she feels more alive than she has in weeks, her body suddenly alert and her heart pounding in her chest. 

According to Hook, it’s less than a day’s travel away, and he seems confident that they’ll be ashore by nightfall. 

But then, after what must be hours of sailing, they’re no closer, Neverland still just a blip on the horizon, as far off as when they first saw it. 

“I don’t get it,” Emma says, frustrated as she grips the edge of the ship’s rail, willing the island to get closer. “Why aren’t we there yet?”

“Maybe it’s a trick of the water,” Regina suggests, standing beside her and squinting into the late afternoon sunlight. “An optical illusion of some kind?”

“I don’t think so,” Emma says. “We’ve been sailing for hours and we’re definitely not any closer.”

“It’s an enchantment, dearie,” Gold says from right behind them, making Emma jump a little. He’s rarely up on the deck at this time of day, and she gets the sense that he’s just as frustrated as they are that Neverland remains just out of reach. “A powerful one at that.”

“What kind of enchantment?” Emma asks, just as Regina says, “So how do we break it?”

Gold smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The enchantment only permits children to reach the island. Everyone aboard this ship is much too old to set foot on Neverland’s shores,” he tells Emma before glancing over at Regina. “And as for how to break it, your majesty...well, that remains to be seen.”

“Then start seeing to it,” Regina orders. “We can’t find Henry without getting on that island. And if Greg and Tamara can get ashore then so can we.”

“Of course,” Gold says, still with that smirk. “Your wish is--” he starts, then stops, his eyes narrowing as he shifts to stare at something over Regina shoulder. 

Both Emma and Regina turn their heads, following his gaze. There’s a line of boats heading their way, a small dark caravan cutting through the clear blue of the water, and Emma gets a bad feeling in her stomach.

“Who are they?” Regina asks, but Gold just shakes his head, reaching up with his free hand to shade his eyes from the glare off the water.

“No idea,” he says, leaning heavily on his cane and taking a couple of steps closer to the railing. “But I doubt they’re the welcome wagon.”

In the distance, the boats are moving fast, getting closer to the ship by the minute. “Hook!” Emma finally calls. “Who are these guys?”

From over at the helm, Hook pulls out his spyglass, pointing in the direction of the boats. “Damn it,” he says, turning the wheel quickly in the opposite direction, the ship lurching so much that Emma loses her balance, stumbling into Regina. 

Regina catches her by the waist, holding Emma up, keeping her from falling. They stay like that until the ship rights itself somewhat, Regina’s arms strong against Emma’s body, the two of them keeping each other steady.

“Man your stations, mates!” Hook yells, and then they’re all off in different directions, Mary Margaret and David emerging from below deck looking rumpled, the two of them dashing for the rigging up near the prow, while Emma and Regina and Gold head for their positions at the masts.

“Who are they?” Regina yells to Hook, sounding as frustrated as Emma feels.

“The Lost Ones!” he yells back, but he sounds strangely excited. 

They work together to try to outrun the boats, pushing the _Jolly Roger_ as hard as they can, but they can’t seem to shake them. No matter which direction they turns or how fast they move, the smaller boats gain on them, staying right on their tail. 

It must be part of the enchantment, Emma realizes, and a knot of anxiety forms in her throat as she pulls on the rigging, turning the sails to direct the ship away from the island.

*

By nightfall, Emma’s hands burn from holding the ropes, her fingers throb painfully and blisters dot her palms. Even with all their work, the ship apparently hasn’t made any progress either towards or away from Neverland. 

Hook finally says they should just anchor the ship for the night, that they’ve done all that they can for now.

The Lost Ones have them surrounded in minutes, a dozen rowboats circling the _Jolly Roger_ like hungry sharks, the boys cloaked in black, faceless and eerily silent as they float in the dark water.

Emma and Mary Margaret and David help Hook get the ship battened down for the night, while Gold and Regina cast quick a protection spell, something that should be enough to keep any outsiders from boarding the ship. 

When they finish, a dome of glittering purple mist hovers around the ship, and Emma can feel the tell-tale buzz of magic in the air, bright and electric. 

After just a couple of minutes, one of the rowboats breaks away from the circle, cutting swift and silent through the black water. When it hits the thin sheen of magic, the boat ignites in flames, and the boys jump overboard with muffled yells, swimming frantically through the dark ocean to the remaining boats.

Gold and Regina watch the boys with cruel smiles, the light of the spell reflected brightly onto their faces, and Emma’s surprised to realize she’s smiling right alongside them. Sometimes it scares her, how much she’s changed since they left Storybrooke.

None of the boats approach the ship after that, but they don’t leave, either, just stay where they are, bobbing silently in the water. 

They all stay awake that night, the six of them standing tensely around the deck of the ship, keeping a wary eye on the Lost Ones, cloaked and silent in their eleven remaining boats until they finally vanish into the early morning mist.

*

After that, they agree to keep a nightly watch, working in pairs to make sure the spell keeps working, that the Lost Ones don’t find a way past the enchantment. 

They pair up in the ways they always seem to these days--Mary Margaret and David, Emma and Regina, and then Hook and Gold ending up together by default. The two of them seem to have at least managed to form a kind of grudging understanding, neither one of them attempting to kill the other, which is nice.

Emma and Regina volunteer to take the first night watch, both of them too on edge to sleep anyway now that they’re finally in sight of Neverland, finally one step closer to getting their son back. 

The air gets cooler after sunset, the wind picking up a little as Emma and Regina pace the deck, both of them keeping a watchful eye for the Lost Ones. The shimmery dome from the spell is still bright, and the deck of the ship catches the light from the pale purple haze of the magic, giving everything onboard a strange, violet glow.

After a couple of hours, Emma’s back starts to ache, the tension from the past two days finally starting to get to her, and she goes lean on the rail of the deck, looking down over the edge of the ship. Below her, the water is dark and deep, a quiet black void that seems to go on forever. 

She’s not sure how long she's been standing there when she hears a splash, and she looks up to see a fin crest the water a few yards from the boat, splashing once before sliding gracefully back under the surface.

The moon is bright enough that it casts a glare on the water, and Emma squints into the darkness, trying to make it out. She thinks it may be a dolphin, or even a whale, and she leans forward to get a better look, pressing herself closer against the edge of the ship.

“Do you see something?” Regina suddenly asks from right behind her, making Emma jump a little. 

“Jesus, Regina,” Emma says, holding a hand to her chest, her heart racing. But when she turns around, Regina’s watching her with a worried look on her face, her eyes scanning the water for trouble, and her annoyance abruptly fades. It’s been a long couple of nights.

“I think there’s something out there,” Emma tells her, keeping her voice low and nodding at a spot in the water where the waves are still rippling slightly. “Dolphins, maybe. Or a whale.” 

In the water, the fin flips up and then down with a quiet splash, like it's waving at them. “There!” Emma says, excited. “Did you see that?”

Regina nods, walking slowly over to where Emma's standing, her eyes trained on the dark water. “I wouldn’t let them hear you call them whales, Miss Swan,” she says, coming up next to her, leaning her elbows on the rail and gazing out into the sea. “They’re quite sensitive, you know.”

“Who are?” Emma asks suspiciously, glancing sidelong at Regina. As she does, something splashes in the water just a few yards out and Emma turns in time to see a fin disappearing below the surface of the waves. 

“The mermaids, of course, dear,” Regina says, nudging Emma’s shoulder with hers. She’s still looking out at the water, but Emma can make out her small half-smile in the pale moonlight. “You wouldn’t believe what silly, vain little creatures they are.”

“Mermaids?” Emma asks skeptically, wondering if Regina’s just screwing with her. “Seriously?”

Regina nods, just as the fin emerges again, waving playfully in the cool night air. “And don’t let them fool you,” Regina says, glancing over at Emma, her face suddenly serious. “They’re seductive but quite dangerous.”

“Oh,” is all Emma says. Just once, she’d like something in this world to be what she expects, for something to make sense. 

The two of them just stand like that for a few minutes, their sides pressed together and watching as the fin flips a few more times, like it's dancing for them before vanishing, leaving a trail of ripples in its wake. For a while, neither one of them says anything, and Emma glances above them to look at the stars. The constellations are different here, strange patterns that Emma doesn't recognize. 

Finally: “We’ll find him, won’t we?” Regina says, staring down at where she’s gripping the deck rail, her knuckles bone-white against the flaking yellow-painted wood. Like the rest of them, she’s wearing thick-soled boots and a heavy twill jacket. The blazers and skirts lasted about two days before she traded them in for more sailing appropriate clothes, and it’s strange how much smaller she looks when she’s not being Mayor Mills or the Evil Queen.

“We’ll find him,” Emma tells her. Regina looks pale and tired, dark circles beneath her eyes, her face scrubbed clean of make-up, and before Emma can think too much about it, she reaches over and puts one hand over Regina’s where she's still holding onto the rail so tightly Emma's worried it might crack. 

Regina's breath hitches in her throat, but doesn’t pull away, and the tension in her hands relaxes a little as Emma brushes the pad of her thumb lightly over the back of Regina's knuckles. 

“We’ll find him,” Emma says again, as much to herself as to Regina. After just a moment, Regina turns her hand over so that their palms are pressed together, lacing their fingers together. Regina's skin is cold, and she's got the same callouses on her fingers that Emma does, her thin fingers rough from their time on the ship.

"We will," Regina agrees with a decisive nod, and then squeezes Emma's hand gently. In the distance, Neverland's nothing more than a shadow, barely visible in the moonlight.

They stay like that for the rest of the night, their hands clasped between them as the ship sways gently in the ebb and flow of the tide and the stars disappear, the sky turning from black to grey with the dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

Once Neverland appears on the horizon, Emma starts keeping track of the days again. 

After three days, Gold emerges from his cabin, squinting into the bright afternoon sun. He’s got his shirt-sleeves rolled up and grey stubble on his cheeks, and he’s holding a small glass bottle full of a glowing blue liquid in his free hand. 

“Is that it?” David asks. He and Mary Margaret have been playing a listless game of Go Fish up on the prow for the past two hours, but now they’re both sitting up straight, shielding their eyes with their hands to look at Gold.

“Indeed it is,” Gold says. His voice sounds scratchy from disuse, and even from across the deck, Emma can see the dark circles under his eyes. 

He makes his way over to the helm, walking slowly, holding the glass bottle carefully as the rest of them follow. Emma’s heart suddenly feels like it's beating very fast. 

“So what do we do, crocodile?” Hook asks once they’re all there, gathered around the ship’s wheel in a half-circle.

Gold gives him a dark look, and Hook smirks. “We drink,” Gold says, pulling the cork out of the bottle. It makes a loud popping sound, and the air suddenly smells like peaches. He hands the potion to Emma first, and she only hesitates for a second before she takes it from him. The tips of his fingers are rough and calloused, and the bottle is strangely hot in her hand.

Everyone’s watching her, and she raises the bottle to her lips before lowering it again.

“Something wrong, Miss Swan?” Gold asks with a sigh.

Emma shakes her head, but can’t bring herself to drink yet. “It's just...what’s it going to do?” she asks, not able to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

Gold shrugs. “It’s going to allow us passage to Neverland.”

She considers that for a moment. “It’s not going to turn us into teenagers or something, is it?” she asks, this horrible vision in her head of them all suddenly fourteen years old. God, that would be a nightmare. 

Gold lets out a bark of laughter like he’s legitimately amused, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, Miss Swan,” he says, still smiling a little. “It shouldn’t do that.”

“Okay,” Emma says more to herself than anyone else. “Okay.” She raises the bottle to her lips and takes a drink. The liquid is sweet and feels strange on her tongue, electric and bright.

She passes the bottle to Regina, who gasps when she finishes her drink, looking a little dazed as she passes the bottle to Hook. The rest of them follow suit, each of them taking a swig of the magic, all of them standing a little taller as the potion courses through them. Gold is the last to drink and he finishes off the bottle, slipping the empty vial into his pocket. The six of them are all looking a little more alert, but not any younger, thank god.

“Alright, mate,” Hook says. He's grinning, bouncing a little on his toes. “What now?”

“Now,” Gold says, and his voice sounds different, somehow, more alive. "We sail for Neverland.”

They work together to get the ship moving again, pulling up anchor and rolling out the sails. Pretty soon, it’s clear they’re actually making progress towards Neverland, the island getting bigger and more real by the moment, the vague greens and browns solidifying into trees and shorelines and hills. 

Emma can't help the smile that spreads across her face, relief coursing through her body. She sends a silent prayer to whoever might be listening to keep Henry safe until they can find him.

The clouds start to roll in when they’re only a couple miles out, moving fast and threatening, blocking the yellow rays of the sun and turning the ocean a dark grey-blue. 

When the first fork of lightning illuminates the sky, Emma starts, and Regina glances back at her, worried,. 

Emma counts to four-mississippi by the time the thunder cracks, loud enough to make her flinch. The sea is starting to get rough, white-crested waves crashing hard against the hull of the ship, making the _Jolly Roger_ pitch and roll violently. 

Over on port side, David and Mary Margaret are struggling with one of the sails, Gold limping over to try to help them get it in line. 

“What the hell is going on?” Emma says to no one in particular. For weeks, there hasn't been a single cloud in the sky. Now that they're within reach of Neverland, they're apparently caught in the middle of a monsoon. 

Behind her, Regina is focused hard on the ropes, her face pale and tense. She just glances at Emma, looking as worried as Emma feels. In the distance, Neverland looms, big and dark and strangely ominous.

“Hook?” Emma yells. “Where is this coming from?”

“No idea, love,” he says. His voice is tight and he’s leaning his whole body into the wheel, like he's trying desperately to maintain control of the ship.

They sail for as long as they can, the sky getting darker and darker the closer they get to the island, the waves splashing into the hull, soaking the deck even before the rain starts to fall.

Finally, Hook tells them they have to stop, that they’ll capsize if they try to keep going, and they go about the work of getting the ship anchored for the night. It’s slow going, the deck rocking so violently that it’s hard to keep their footing. Gold can hardly stand, the tip of his cane slipping on the slick wood of the deck, and Regina looks a little green, holding onto the rail and breathing through her nose, swallowing hard like she's trying not to get sick. 

“You okay?” Emma asks once they get the sails down. The rain hasn’t actually started yet, but they’re all soaked from the waves; the salt water is sticky as it clings to Emma’s skin.

Regina nods, but then she’s leaning over the edge of the ship, retching violently, her knuckles white against the rail. Emma hurries over to her, resting one hand against her back and trying to steady her as the ship pitches in a particularly bad swell.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret calls. She and David are helping Gold towards the deck hatch, the three of them moving slowly as they try to keep their balance. Hook’s already at the hatch, holding it open for them, glancing up anxiously as another strike of lightning cracks the sky. 

“I’m coming!” Emma calls over her shoulder, before turning to where Regina’s still leaning over the deck, breathing hard. “You think you can make it to the hatch?” she asks gently, rubbing Regina’s back a little, trying to be soothing.

Regina nods, her eyes closed, and she starts to push herself up, but then another swell hits the boat and Regina gags. Emma winces, but stays with her, her hand still on Regina’s back, trying to keep them both steady in the storm. Beside her, Regina's still retching, her whole body shaking.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret yells again, sounding a little more frantic. David's standing next to her, both of them looking worried. There’s another peal of thunder, loud enough for the deck to vibrate, and the first fat drops of rain start to fall.

“It’s okay,” she calls over to them. “We’ll be in soon.”

David and Mary Margaret look at each other, and then glance back over at Emma and Regina. “Okay,” David says, and Emma can tell he’s trying to not to sound worried. Beside him, Mary Margaret is smiling, but it looks more like a grimace. “Just...come in as soon as you can.”

Emma nods and gives them a thumbs up, hunching her shoulder against a heavy gust of wind. They disappear below deck, the hatch door shutting heavily behind them. Emma leans her hip against the rail and reaches over to smooth a damp strand of hair behind Regina’s ear. 

Overhead, a spike of lightning splits the sky, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder, and then the clouds open up, rain pouring down on them in sheets. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Regina says, her voice raspy. “You should go inside with everyone else.”

“It’s okay,” Emma tells her, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the crashing waves. “I like the rain.” 

Regina manages a weak smile, and then the ship pitches violently to one side, and she’s leaning over the edge of the boat again, getting sick into the water. 

Emma swallows hard and turns away. It's just, watching Regina throw up is actually making Emma feel a little nauseated, her stomach rolling dangerously. She forces herself to relax, taking a steadying breath and closing her eyes, counting slowly to ten. Beside her, Regina’s breathing is fast and shallow. 

Emma keeps her head turned, trying to think of ways to get Regina to relax, focusing on that instead of the way the ship is lurching under their feet.

She starts tracing patterns on Regina’s back, drawing a sun and then a star and then tracing out the shape of a landscape, mountains and trees that start near Regina’s waist and stretch up to her shoulder blades.

After just a few minutes, she feels Regina relax slightly, the tension in her back easing and her breathing slowing down a little. She’s got her eyes closed and her shoulders are slumped, but her face doesn’t look quite so green. 

“Better?” Emma asks, so quiet she doubts Regina can hear her over the storm.

But she must, because she nods slightly. “Mmmhmm,” she hums, her eyes still closed.

Since it seems to be helping, Emma keeps rubbing Regina's back, tracing pictures with the tips of her fingers, willing the storm to end soon.

After a while she runs out of things to draw and starts spelling out words. _Emma_ , she starts, writing it first in block letters then in script. _Regina. Henry. Home._

“What are you writing?” Regina says quietly, and Emma freezes, feeling weirdly like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn't. 

“Nothing,” she says quickly. She sweeps her fingers over Regina’s back, dragging her fingertips in random patterns against the wet fabric of Regina’s shirt. 

“Oh,” Regina says, sounding a little disappointed. 

“I was just...” Emma starts. She lets out a breath. “I was writing our names,” she admits, feeling kind of ridiculous.

“Our names?” Regina repeats, and she must be feeling somewhat better because she sounds a little like her old self, all mocking amusement.

“Yeah,” Emma confirms, her hand still moving. The rain is starting to ease up, the rain just a light drizzle, and Regina’s breathing normally again. “Yours. Mine. Henry's.”

Regina doesn’t say anything, and when Emma looks at her, she’s staring down at the deck, the corner of her mouth curled up in a half-smile. 

“So,” Emma says, feeling strangely off-kilter. Her hand is still pressed against Regina's back, her fingertips against the hard ridges of Regina's spine. “Think you’re ready to go in?”

Regina nods, leaning forward so that her hair falls in front of her face. “Yeah,” she finally says, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They make it to the hatch without too much trouble, the two of them only slipping once on the rain-slick deck. Below deck, it’s warm and loud with the buzz of conversation, everyone packed into the little dining area off the galley. The air smells like food, and Emma stomach growls. Beside her, Regina’s looking wan again, staring steadily in front of her as they make their way through the cramped hallways.

“You okay?” Emma asks, and Regina nods weakly. 

It’s quiet in their cabin, and Emma helps Regina to the bottom bunk, grabbing a dry towel from the closet and draping it over her shoulders. Regina slumps against the wall, her eyes closed, breathing through her nose, and Emma just stands in front of her for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. 

Finally: “I’ll be right back,” she tells Regina. 

Regina nods again, her eyes still closed, the towel clutched loosely in her hands. 

Emma makes her way over to the galley, rustling around in the cabinets until she finds a box of saltines. There’s a pot of soup simmering on the stove, and her stomach growls again.

“You should eat something,” Mary Margaret says from the doorway, her voice low and gentle, like she's trying not to startle Emma. 

Emma turns around and gives her a half smile. “I know,” she says. “I just wanted to grab some crackers for Regina.”

Mary Margaret blinks. “How's she doing?”

“Okay, I guess,” Emma says with a shrug, opening another cabinet and pulling out a couple bottles of water. “Still a little queasy.”

Mary Margaret nods and takes a step into the galley. “We’ve been trying to come up with a plan of attack for once the storm dies down,” Mary Margaret tells her. “Think you can spare a few minutes to help us come up with something? Maybe have a quick dinner while you’re at it?”

Emma hesitates, glancing in the direction of the cabin. Regina's probably asleep by now, and they really do need to figure out what they’re going to do to get Henry back, so: “Okay.”

Mary Margaret smiles, relieved, and ladles some soup into a bowl for her. Emma grabs the crackers and the water and follows her out of the kitchen. When they get into the dining room, David and Hook and Gold are all sitting at the table, talking in low, tense voices. 

“I still think it should be me,” David’s saying, giving Gold an annoyed look. 

“Think what should be you?” Emma asks, sliding into the chair next to him. She takes a bite of soup, wincing a little when it burns her tongue.

“We’re planning a recon mission for tomorrow,” he tells her. “At first light, a couple of us are going to take the dinghy to shore.”

“Is that safe?” Emma asks, looking around the table.

Hook shrugs. “There’s a small dock in one of the bays, pretty hidden from view by the jungle,” he says. “Should be enough to get in, look around a bit.” 

“We figured you’d want to go,” David adds, then gives Gold a pointed glance. “And I think I should go with you.”

“And I,” Gold says, voice low and dangerous, “think it should be someone who can use magic. Someone who might actually be able to offer some protection against whatever’s on the island.”

“Someone like _you,_ you mean?” Emma says skeptically. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Gold...or, well. That’s exactly what it is, actually.

“Well, I’d prefer Regina,” Gold says wryly. “But if her majesty is still incapacitated by tomorrow, then, yes, Miss Swan. _Me_.”

Emma considers that for a moment, blowing lightly on the next spoonful of soup. “What do you guys think?” she asks, turning to David and Mary Margaret.

“I think you should take someone we can all trust,” David says pointedly. Across the table, Gold rolls his eyes, tapping his fingers on the handle of his cane. 

Emma nods, but doesn’t say anything, thinking about it while she finishes her dinner. “I think Gold’s right,” she finally says, dropping her spoon into her empty soup bowl with a quiet clink. 

“I think--” David starts.

“We don’t know what’s on that island,” Emma says, cutting him off. “But from what we’ve seen, I don’t think swords and courage are going to be enough.”

“Emma--” he tries again.

“I think she’s right,” Mary Margaret says, and Emma shoots her a grateful look. “Whatever’s on that island is dangerous, and magic’s the best weapon we have right now.”

David sighs, throwing up his hands and leaning back in his chair. “Fine.”

“Good,” Emma says, getting up from the table and grabbing the box of saltines and a bottle of water. “I’ll go talk it over with Regina, see if she thinks she’ll be up for it by tomorrow.”

When she gets to their cabin, Regina’s still on the bottom bunk, curled up on her side, her eyes closed. Emma closes the door behind her as quietly as she can, but Regina’s eyes blink open, and she pushes herself up to a sitting position, making space for Emma on the bed. 

“Hey,” Emma says. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Regina says with a shrug. She still looks pale and shaky, but she’s changed into dry clothes, a pair of red cotton pajama pants and a black tank-top. Her bare shoulders are pale, and there’s a stark line above her elbow where her skin gets suddenly tan. 

“I brought you some crackers,” Emma tells her, sitting next to her on the bed, close enough that their hips are pressed together. Regina smells like soap and toothpaste, and her hair has started to dry, curling in waves around her jaw. “I thought they might help.”

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” she says, taking one of the saltines from its little paper sleeve. She takes a tentative bite, chewing carefully like she’s a little worried about getting sick again. But it must work out okay, because she finishes the cracker, eating it slowly and then sliding another one out of the package.

Emma waits for her to finish eating before she tells her about the conversation in the dining room.

“I’m going with you,” Regina says immediately once Emma's done going over the plan.

“Regina,” Emma sighs. It’s not that she doesn’t want Regina to go, but Regina’s still clearly not feeling well, no matter how many saltines she’s managing to keep down.

“I’m going, Miss Swan,” Regina tells her, sounding every bit like a Queen making a decree. “I will be fine by the morning.”

“You can’t know that!” 

“Yes, I can,” Regina says, as though she has complete control over the sea sickness. “I’m going.”

Emma lets out a heavy sigh. There’s no point in arguing, she knows. Once Regina makes up her mind, that’s it. “Fine.”

Regina smiles, pulling herself up a little straighter, and Emma shakes her head as she starts to get to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Regina demands.

Emma nods at the bunk above them. “To bed?”

“Oh,” Regina says, shoulders slumping again. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs and waves her hand dismissively. 

Emma starts to get up again, and Regina reaches out, putting her hand on Emma’s arm. 

“It’s just...it helps, you being next to me,” she admits, her voice very quiet, like this difficult for her to say. Like admitting that she needs Emma in some way is some horrible strain on her. “I mean, it makes things feel more steady, and it just...helps.”

Emma blinks. “Oh,” is all she says. Regina’s still holding on to her arm, her fingers strangely cold against Emma’s skin. “O-okay.”

Regina lies down again, sliding to the back of the bed so that she’s almost completely pressed up against the wall. Her bare feet are next to Emma’s hip, her toes small and pale against the sheets. Her toenails are half-covered in flaking, chipped red polish. Emma looks down at them and smirks.

"What?" Regina demands.

"You need a pedicure, Mayor Mills," Emma says, running her fingertips lightly along the top of Regina's toes and giving her a sideways smile. 

"Shut up, Sheriff Swan," Regina says, kicking playfully at Emma's hand. Emma laughs, surprised.

Regina's watching her carefully, her eyes dark in the dim light of the cabin, and Emma suddenly realizes how weird this whole situation is, how close she and Regina are to one another. And now they're about to sleep in the same bed. Her life has taken some really weird turns these past few years.

The bed is narrow, and when Emma lies down, her back to Regina, the two of them end up pressed close together, Regina's chest flush against her back. Emma's heart feels like it's pounding, like it's beating so loud Regina must be able to hear it. She doesn't say anything, though, and after just a second, she reaches up and puts her hand Emma’s hip, like she's trying to steady herself.

“Is this okay?” Emma asks, feeling strange. It’s very quiet in the room, and she can feel the beat of Regina’s heart against her back. 

Regina nods, her chin brushing up against Emma’s shoulder. “Yes,” she says, her breath warm against the shell of Emma’s ear. She’s quiet for a few minutes, so long that Emma thinks she must have fallen asleep. Then: “Thank you, Miss Swan,” she whispers, her voice so quiet Emma can barely hear her. 

“You’re welcome,” Emma whispers back. After a couple more minutes, she hears Regina’s breathing change, going deep and even, like she's already drifted off.

As she lies there, Emma listens to the muffled sounds outside the cabin -- the clink of dishes in the galley, the quiet rush of the waves, the creak of the hull. Finally, she closes her eyes, thinking about the plan for tomorrow, about venturing out to Neverland in a small, rickety little boat, just her and Regina against an enemy they still don’t know or understand.

Behind her, Regina sleeps peacefully, her breath catching on every inhale, and Emma tries to focus on that, letting the quiet rasp of Regina's breath lull her into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma wakes up to Regina pressed close against her in the narrow bunk, Regina’s face tucked into the crook of Emma’s neck, her breath warm against Emma’s skin.

It’s still pretty dark in the room, just a little grey pre-dawn light filtering in through the tiny porthole in the corner, and Emma shifts, tilting her head up to look outside, making sure the storm is over. Beside her, Regina makes a quiet noise in her sleep, and Emma absentmindedly strokes her hand down Regina’s back, trailing her fingers over the ridges of her spine. When she does, the pattern of Regina’s breathing changes slightly, and Emma feels the flutter of her eyelashes against her throat as Regina opens her eyes.

After what feels like a very long time, Regina lifts her head so that she’s lying on the pillow next to Emma. There are red sleep lines pressed into her cheek, and she looks strangely vulnerable in the dim early morning light.

“Morning,” Regina says. She sounds different than she normally does, her voice low and raspy with sleep. 

“Hi,” Emma says, her voice coming out so quiet it’s practically a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” Regina tells her, the corner of her mouth curving up into a soft, sleepy smile. 

“Good.” Emma brushes her thumb over the strip of exposed skin where Regina’s shirt has gotten rucked up a little around her hip. Regina’s eyes flicker closed, her breath catching in her throat. Her skin is warm beneath Emma's hand.

Regina shifts slightly, and then suddenly they’re close enough that their lips are brushing, the barest feeling of skin on skin. Emma sucks in a breath. It's very quiet in their cabin, none of the other noise from the ship reaching them, and it's like they're the only two people in the world.

Emma’s not sure which of them moves first, but suddenly they’re kissing, soft and slow. Regina’s lips are dry and a little chapped, and she tastes like toothpaste and saltwater, and Emma knows this is a bad idea, knows that this is probably a mistake, but she can't seem to make herself stop. Instead, she presses her body closer to Regina, tightening her fingers against the sharp line of Regina's hip, gasping a little as Regina slides her tongue along Emma's lower lip. The light in the room is turning slightly orange with the dawn, and everything feels hazy and unreal, like a dream, and Emma deepens the kiss, nipping gently at the tiny scar on Regina's lip.

The knock on the door makes them both jump, and Emma scrambles out of bed, smoothing her hair down and tugging on her shirt. Her hand is shaking as she opens the door. Mary Margaret's standing on the other side, looking very awake for how early it is, and Emma starts a little when she sees her, feeling caught.

“Hey,” Emma says. Her voice sounds strange even to her own ears, kind of breathless and nervous, and she clears her throat. 

“Hi,” Mary Margaret says, giving Emma a strange look.

Emma just looks back at her steadily; her cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and her heart is racing, pounding so loud she’s afraid Mary Margaret can hear it. She's very conscious of Regina in the room behind her, still in the bed they slept in last night. Together. 

"I was just coming to see..." Mary Margaret trails off, tilting her head and studying Emma. Then: "Are you okay?"

"Me?" Emma says, standing up straighter. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'm good."

Mary Margaret blinks, shaking her head a little. “We’re, uh, we’re having that meeting on the deck,” she says. “To discuss the plan for today.”

“The plan, right, of course.” Emma nods, her head bobbing up and down. She tugs on the hem of her shirt, pulling a little on a string that’s coming unraveled. When she realizes what she’s doing, she stops, forcing herself to quit fidgeting before Mary Margaret thinks something’s up. 

But it’s apparently too late, because the next thing Mary Margaret says is: “You're sure you're okay? You just...you look a little flush.” She reaches up, touching Emma’s forehead lightly with the back of her hand like she’s checking for a fever. 

Emma ducks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand is still trembling. “Yeah, no. Yeah. I’m fine,” she tells her, and tries to smile.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret says, but she’s still giving her a strange look. After a second she darts a quick glance behind Emma to where Regina’s still in bed, but Emma just keeps her eyes straight ahead, not trusting herself to turn around and look. 

“How’s Regina feeling?” Mary Margaret says, leaning in and pitching her voice low. “Because if she’s not up for it, I know David would feel better if he could go with you to look for Henry.”

"Oh, ” Emma starts to say, "I think she's --" 

“I’m feeling much better, Snow,” Regina says loudly, talking over her. "Thank you for your concern."

“Good,” Mary Margaret says, taking a step back and smiling at Regina, all practiced cheer and brightness. “That’s -- I’m glad you’re feeling better, Regina.” 

Regina snorts. "Right."

Emma turns around to glare at her. Regina cocks one eyebrow, like she’s daring Emma to say something, and they all just stand there awkwardly for a minute, Emma and Regina staring at each other, and Mary Margaret glancing from Emma to Regina then back to Emma again. 

“Well,” Mary Margaret finally says, her smile barely faltering. “I’m going to head up to the deck.”

“Okay,” Emma says, feeling weirdly relieved. “I’ll --" she starts, but then Regina clears her throat pointedly, and Emma rolls her eyes. " _We_ will be right up.”

*

Up on the deck, Gold and Hook fill them in on what they know, the six of them standing around in a loose circle as they listen to the story of Peter Pan and Neverland and the Lost Ones. It’s as strange as it always is, these deadly serious conversations about fairytale characters, but for some reason this one strikes her as particularly bizarre. 

“Peter Pan?” Emma says skeptically once they’re done telling them everything. “Seriously?”

“Yes, Miss Swan,” Gold says, in this tone like he’s getting annoyed that’s he’s having to explain everything. “Seriously.”

Huh. It’s not that she didn’t think that they might run into Peter Pan, what with the whole Neverland and Captain Hook thing. It’s just...when Emma was a kid, she used to dream of Peter Pan flying up to her window one night, Tinkerbell in tow, the two of them rescuing her from whatever crappy group home she was in that month, taking her away to their island full of kids, no adults around to yell at her or hit her or sigh like her mere existence was a burden. It seemed like a kind of paradise to her, so it's just a little hard for her to wrap her head around the idea that he's the bad guy in this story, some creepy shadow-figure preying on terrified little boys. 

“But I thought he was supposed to be harmless,” she finally says. “Bringing kids to Neverland for a big adventure.” 

Hook lets out a sharp bark of laughter and Gold smiles darkly, his gold tooth glinting in the early morning light. 

“He’s a monster,” Hook tells her. “He reigns over this land, holding boys hostage, stealing them away from their homes and their families, making them serve him for eternity.”

Well, when he puts it like that...Emma thinks about Henry, eleven years old forever, alone and scared and ripped away from everyone who loves him, and yeah, she guesses that she can see how being trapped on an island with a terrifying shadow-kid might not be paradise. 

The plan itself is simple enough. Gold will cast a cloaking spell on the dinghy, and Regina and Emma will row to shore. When they get there, they’ll do some quick recon, look for any sign of Henry or Greg and Tamara, scope out the situation with Pan and the Lost Ones, and try to find a good place for the _Jolly Roger_ to dock without drawing too much attention.

Once they’re all clear on the plans and the possible dangers of Neverland, Gold and Hook go to get the dinghy ready, Hook lowering the rigging while Gold casts the cloaking spell. 

The rest of them hang back, and Emma tries not to think about all the things that could go wrong, about how another storm could hit, about how Regina could get seasick, about how the dinghy might get swept out to sea and no one would even know because of the cloaking spell. Instead, she focuses on Henry, on how this is the way that they’ll get him back. And they will get him back, she tells herself; they have to. 

“I want you to take this,” David tells Emma, breaking her out of her reverie. When she looks down, he’s handing her a gun, his service weapon from Storybrooke. “I know it’s not magic,” he says with shrug, "but I’d feel better knowing you had some protection.”

Emma smiles, and pulls back her coat, revealing her own gun in the holster she’s got strapped to her hip. “Already taken care of, dad.” 

David grins and starts to reholster his weapon.

Then: “I’ll take it,” Regina says, holding out her hand, palm up. 

David hesitates, glancing sidelong at Mary Margaret. She just raises her eyebrows in return, the two of them doing some kind of weird silent communication thing. Regina watches, her eyes narrowing, and Emma sighs, taking the gun from David and handing it to Regina. Regina smirks as Emma puts the gun in her hand.

Regina starts to pull away, but Emma closes her fingers around the gun, holding Regina’s hand in hers and waiting until Regina stops smirking at David and looks at her. 

“Keep the safety on, and only use it if I tell you to, got it?” Emma tells her seriously. They don't have time to argue about this, and the last thing they need is for one of them to accidentally get shot because of some weird power-play, but Emma can't shake the feeling that she and Regina are going to need all the protection they can get once they get to Neverland.

Regina blinks. “Of course, Miss Swan.”

“Good,” Emma says, giving her a look of warning before letting go of her hand. Regina cocks an eyebrow in return and slides the gun into the waist of her pants. 

“Emma?” Mary Margaret says, and Emma looks away from Regina to where Mary Margaret’s standing, handing a small basket to Emma. "I packed this for you."

"What is it?" Emma asks.

Mary Margaret shrugs. “Just some things for the trip. Water. A couple of sandwiches. Just stuff I thought you might need.”

“Oh,” Emma says, strangely taken aback. Sometimes, she wonders if she’ll ever get used to it, the way that her parents are always just kind of looking out for her, offering her help she doesn’t even know that she needs. “Thank you.”

"You're welcome," Mary Margaret says sincerely and hugs her, and then David’s joining in, the three of them holding each other tightly. “Be careful,” David tells her, pressing a quick, fatherly kiss to her temple. 

Beside them, Regina’s standing alone, her eyes trained on the deck in front of her, carefully not looking at them, and something in Emma’s chest feels tight.

“Okay, well,” she says, disentangling herself from the embrace and making her way back over to Regina. “We’ll see you guys tonight.”

David gives her a small wave and Mary Margaret just nods, her eyes bright with tears, watching as Emma and Regina pass through the cloaking spell, vanishing from view as they climb into the small boat.

*

It takes a lot longer than Emma thought it would to get to the island, the currents strong as they struggle to row the dinghy towards Neverland. They keep getting pulled off course, and Emma’s getting blisters on her hands from the oars, the rough wood biting painfully into her palms.

The sun is hot, beating down hard on their shoulders, reflecting off the white sands of the shore, the light so bright Emma can hardly make out anything on the island. Emma tries not to think about what might be waiting for them once they make it ashore, Greg and Tamara or whoever they work for or the Lost Ones, those faceless figures in their dark, hooded cloaks. 

Neither she nor Regina say anything as they row, both of them concentrating hard on just getting to Neverland, getting closer to Henry.

By the time they finally manage to get ashore, they’re both exhausted, their faces sunburned and their arms shaky from battling the current.

The side of the island they’re on is mostly jungle, the tree line thick and dense. In the distance there are mountains and, from what Hook told them, there's at least one small village somewhere, but Emma can't see any sign of it. The side of Neverland that they're on looks pretty deserted, which is good, but they're going to need to get to where everyone else is if they're going to have a chance in hell at finding Henry. After just a couple of minutes of discussion, she and Regina decide to head into the jungle, where there's cover.

They're almost to the tree line when Emma glances behind her to where the dinghy’s sitting on the shore, perfectly visible.

Emma stops, confused.

“Miss Swan?” Regina says, looking back, her hand held up to shade her eyes from the sun.

“That’s our boat,” Emma says.

“Yes, it is,” Regina confirms, in a tone that suggests Emma's an idiot. 

“Isn't it supposed be invisible?” Emma says, glancing back at her. "That whole cloaking spell thing?" 

“Oh.” Regina looks concerned for about half a second before she smirks. “Well, it seems that Rumpelstiltskin is losing his touch,” she says, sounding delighted at this turn of events. “I’ll just...” she says, waving her hands at the boat with a slight flourish. Nothing happens. No sparks, no purple cloud, no disappearing boat. Nothing. The dinghy just sits on the sand, the damp hull dripping water on the sand. 

“What’s wrong?” Emma asks.

Regina doesn’t answer, just she shakes her hands like she’s trying to get the magic juices flowing or something and does the flourish thing again. The boat stays right where it is. “It’s not working,” Regina says, confused. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Emma says. “ _Why_ isn’t it working?”

“I don’t know,” Regina says and looks around the beach, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips. “It must be this place.”

Emma sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. So much for magic being their most powerful weapon. “Wonderful.” 

It must be past noon, the sun already starting to get low in the sky, and Emma’s getting a headache from the heat. If they’re going to check out the island and get out of here before sundown, they need to get going now. 

“Well,” Emma says, heading back towards the dinghy. “It looks like we’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Meaning what?” Regina asks.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Meaning help me drag the boat over to the jungle, and then we can cover it with branches and driftwood and stuff.”

Regina glances at the jungle and then back at the boat, flicking her hands again, but nothing happens, and she stamps her foot on the sand like a toddler. “Fine.” 

The dinghy is surprisingly heavy, and it takes them the better part of an hour to lug it far enough into the jungle that it's hidden from the shoreline. By the time they get there, they’re both breathing hard and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Regina’s got a smudge of sand on her cheek, and without really thinking about it, Emma reaches up to brush it away with the pad of her thumb. Regina's breath hitches in her throat, and her eyes flick down to Emma's mouth.

Emma clears her throat and pulls her hand away. “You, uh, you had some sand," Emma tells her by way of explanation, and her voice barely shakes at all.

"Thank you, Miss Swan," Regina says very quietly. Her eyes are very dark in the shadowy light of the jungle, and she's looking at Emma in this way that makes Emma's stomach flip. They still haven't talked about what happened this morning. 

"Well,” Emma says, swallowing hard. "We should try and find some branches and leaves and stuff. Hide the boat from view."

“Right,” Regina agrees, but she doesn't move. Her cheeks are pink from the sun, and there’s still a little bit of sand clinging to her skin, right near the corner of her mouth, and Emma has to clench her hand in a fist to keep herself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Okay, so," Emma says, taking a step back, trying to put a little space between her and Regina. Her foot catches on a piece of driftwood and she stumbles, just barely managing to catch herself before she actually falls. When she looks up, Regina's smirking at her. "Shut up, Regina," she says.

"I said nothing, Miss Swan," Regina says innocently, but she's still smirking that Evil Queen smirk.

Emma rolls her eyes. It's going to be a long day. “You still have your gun?” she asks. Regina nods and lifts up the hem of her shirt to show Emma the gun tucked next to her hip. "Good," Emma says, turning around to head into the jungle. "Then let's go." After just a second, she hears Regina follow her, and then the two of them branch off in slightly different directions in search of camouflage for the boat.

It’s hard work, finding big enough branches and then lugging them over to the boat, but she and Regina work as quickly as they can, both of them gritting their teeth against the splinters and the blisters and the exhaustion. At least it’s cooler under the trees, the canopy blocking out most of the sun’s rays, so they probably won’t die from heat stroke or anything.

Emma’s gathering what should hopefully be her last armful of palm fronds and branches when she hears footsteps crunching through the leaves behind her. 

“This should be it,” she calls to Regina, heaving the bundle of branches in her arms as she turns around. “Or at least --”

But it’s not Regina behind her, it’s one of the Lost Ones, his face shadowed by the hood of his cloak. He's small, just a kid, but something about the way he's watching her, eyes strangely bright beneath the hood, makes Emma's heart feel like it’s stopped in her chest. She’s still wearing her holster, the slick, cool weight of the gun heavy against her hip, but her hands are full of branches and leaves and she’s not sure she’ll be able to get to her weapon before he can get to her. 

The kid isn’t saying anything, and she flicks her eyes behind him, looking for Regina. The jungle is empty though, just trees and vines and the far off cry of gulls on the beach. She doesn’t think she’s too far from the boat, but she’s not sure. She hasn’t been exactly keeping track of distances.

“Hey,” Emma says to the kid, trying to keep her voice low and non-threatening. He cocks his head slightly, but doesn’t move otherwise, just stands there, his shoulders slightly hunched, his face a dark shadow under the cloak. 

He’s got something in his hand, and as he takes a threatening step towards her, Emma sees that it’s a club or something, the wood dark and stained with something she really hopes isn’t blood. 

“Hey, kid,” she tries again, moving her hand slowly up towards the gun at her hip. “I --” she starts to say, but then suddenly he’s rushing her, advancing on her inhumanly fast, his movements eerily fluid. 

Emma drops the bundle in her arms, scrabbling for the gun at her hip. But her hands are slick with sweat and they slip against the handle of the gun. “Regina!” she calls desperately. “Regina! Help!”

And then the kid’s on top of her, and he’s raising the club above his head, swinging it down in a hard, smooth arc. It hits Emma’s face with a sickening crack, and a bright, searing pain shoots through her head, and then everything goes dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma has no idea how long she’s out, but when she wakes up, she’s still on the ground, rocks and leaves and branches scratching her through her clothes. Her head is throbbing, the pain so intense it’s hard for her to think, and it takes her a couple of seconds to remember what happened, the Lost One and the attack. 

There’s something warm and wet dripping down the left side of her face. She reaches up and touches it gingerly, wincing as a hot bolt of pain shoots through her head. When she takes her hand away, it’s slick and red with blood and for a second she thinks she might be sick. 

“Don’t touch that,” Regina says sharply from somewhere beside her, and Emma jerks her hand away from her face. A second later, Regina steps into view, leaning over Emma. She looks worried, her face pinched and pale. 

“What happened?” Emma asks, blinking hard and trying to get her bearings. She can feel her eye starting to swell up, the vision on that side of her face already going blurry.

“You got knocked out,” Regina tells her, kneeling on the ground beside her. 

“Yeah,” Emma groans, trying to push herself into sitting position. “I got that.” She rolls her eyes, which makes her head hurt so badly she thinks she might throw up. She takes a deep breath, breathing out through her nose and waiting for the nausea to pass. When she finally feels like she can talk again she asks, “Where is he? The kid that hit me?” 

Regina swallows hard, looking down at the ground for a moment, not saying anything. Then: “I don’t know.”

For the first time, Emma notices she’s holding the gun in her hand and her fingers are stained with blood. Oh god. Christ. He was just a kid.

“Is he...” she starts, but can’t bring herself to actually ask. She really does think she’s going to be sick. “Regina? Did you...?”

“I didn’t kill him, Miss Swan,” Regina says sharply, glancing back up at Emma. “I shot at him, and he ran.”

“You missed him?” Emma asks skeptically. It's just, that seems...not very likely. If there’s anything she knows about Regina, it’s that she doesn’t just _miss_ when she’s after someone.

“Yes,” Regina confirms, sounding a little chagrined and staring down at the gun like it’s betrayed her somehow. “I missed him.”

“Then why do you have blood on your hands?” Emma demands. And she doesn’t mean for it to sound quite so accusatory, or...actually. Yeah, she does. She just can’t believe Regina would lie to her about this, not after the last few weeks, not after, well. Not after everything.

Regina blinks. “Because I needed to see how bad he'd hit you,” she says, reaching behind to tuck the gun into her jeans at the small of her back. “And apparently you bleed a lot.”

Oh. That...actually makes a lot of sense. Apparently non-murderous Regina is going to take a little while to get used to. “Did you see which way he went?” Emma finally asks, trying to sound contrite.

Regina studies her for a couple of seconds and then nods at a particularly dense copse of trees. “Over there," she eventually says. "Into the jungle.” 

Emma turns her head slowly to follow the nod, trying not to make any sudden movements. The jungle green and dark and deep, overgrown bushes and ivy choking the ground, but there’s no sign of the kid. There’s no sign of anything. 

When she manages turns back around, Regina’s standing up again, unbuttoning her shirt, her fingers leaving dark red smears of blood all over the front placket. Beneath it, the thin white tank top she’s wearing sticks to her skin with sweat, streaks of dirt smudged along the straps. She drops the shirt at her feet and then reaches for the hem of her undershirt, tugging it over her head as she turns around, so that she’s facing away from Emma.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks, staring at the sleek, hard lines of Regina's back. Her voice comes out kind of shaky, but that’s probably just because of the whole getting smacked in the head thing, she decides. 

Regina turns slightly to look at her over her shoulder. As she shifts Emma can see the swell of her breast, pale and smooth in the sunlight. “We need to get you cleaned up,” Regina tells her, picking the button down shirt up off the ground and sliding it back over her shoulders, the undershirt dangling from one hand.

Emma blinks. It’s just...she’s not sure how Regina taking off her shirt is going to help Emma get cleaned up. 

But then Regina starts ripping the tank top, tearing the thin white fabric into strips and then pouring some of their bottled water over the rags. She kneels down next to Emma again and squints at the left side of her face before pressing the wet fabric to her skin, dabbing at the skin around gash.

The water is unbelievably cool against her skin, but then Regina gets too close to the wound and the pain is suddenly so intense Emma thinks she might black out. She cries out before she can stop herself, and Regina flinches, jerking her hand away.

“Sorry,” Regina says, sounding breathless and kind of shaky. “I’m sorry.” 

The ripped piece of shirt is bright red, the blood soaked all the way through. Regina's hands are shaking slightly, her fingers blood-stained and trembling as she grabs another piece of the shirt, pouring water on it, staring hard like she's focusing all her energy on doing that, like she's trying not to look at Emma.

“It’s okay,” Emma manages. The whole left side of her face feels like it’s on fire, this horrible, searing pain. “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Regina says, and it sounds like she’s talking more to herself than to Emma, like she’s trying to psych herself up. She swallows hard and then takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says again, louder this time, definitely talking to Emma. “I just need to clean it up to see how bad the damage is, okay? I’ll be as gentle as I can.” 

Emma nods once, slowly, swallowing hard. She forces herself not to flinch when Regina raises her hand again.

Regina starts to dab at the wound again, this time being more gentle, but it still hurts like a bitch. Emma concentrates on taking deep breaths, trying to distract herself from the pain as Regina wipes gently at blood on her face. 

Regina’s leaning very close to her, close enough that Emma can see the way her lips have started to crack from the sun and the salt air, fine lines of dark red cutting through the pink. There’s one right by the scar on her upper lip, deeper than the others, and Emma realizes with a start that it’s from her, from this morning in their room, when they were...together. Her heart suddenly feels like it’s beating very fast. 

“How long was I out?” Emma asks, just to say something. She's still staring at Regina's mouth, not able to look away.

“A while,” Regina tells her tightly. Emma can see the muscles working in her jaw, and for the first time she realizes just how worried Regina must have been while she was out. “At first I thought...” she trails off as she gets another clean rag, not looking at Emma as she pours water onto it. “It seemed like you might not wake up.”

Emma lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “And all of that without a single poison apple,” she says wryly. “Maybe next time you’re trying to get rid of me you should go with brute force instead of magic, your majesty.” And she means for it to be a joke, but a flicker of hurt passes across Regina’s face, so fast Emma’s not even sure she sees it. 

“Well,” Regina says, her expression carefully neutral as she busies herself cleaning up the rags, gathering up all the blood stained fabric into a little ball. “I think you'll live.”

She starts to stand up, but Emma grabs her wrist keeping Regina next to her. Her head hurts so badly she can’t think straight, and she's not sure she'll even be able to say what she wants to say. Regina’s still just watching her, her face carefully blank, her wrist thin and strong in Emma’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, Regina. I didn’t mean...” she starts, and then stops, mostly because she can’t remember what she was going to say. Her head _really_ hurts. So instead: “I mean, thank you.”

Regina rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches in an almost-smile. “You’re welcome, Miss Swan.”

They just sit there like that for a few seconds, Regina still close enough to her that Emma can feel the warmth of her breath against her cheek. Around them, the jungle is getting dark, a couple of early stars blinking to life in the sky above the canopy. 

“Well,” Regina finally says, clearing her throat and gently disentangling herself from Emma’s grip. “Let’s see how bad the damage is.” 

She puts one hand under Emma’s chin, tilting her head back and squinting critically at Emma’s face. Her fingers are cool and against Emma’s skin, and she leans into her without quite meaning to.

“So,” Emma asks, trying not to fidget as Regina stares at her. The jungle is quiet around them, just the soft hum of the night insects starting to come out. “How does it look?”

“Terrible,” Regina tells her matter-of-factly, letting go of Emma's chin and brushing her hands across the legs of her jeans, her fingers leaving faint red streaks on the demin. 

“Gee, thanks,” Emma says, and then winces when she starts to roll her eyes.

“Would you prefer for me to lie to you, dear?”

“No,” Emma sighs. In the sky, the sun is starting to set, orange light filtering through the trees and the shadows lengthening. They should get going. She doesn’t want to get stuck on the water in the little dinghy when night falls. “How far are we from the boat?” she asks. 

“Not too far,” Regina says, glancing behind her. “Why?”

“We should probably get moving if we’re going to make it back to the ship tonight,” Emma says, trying to push herself to her feet. As she does, her vision starts to go black around the edges, and she closes her eyes and sinks back to the ground, trying not to pass out.

“We’re not going back tonight, Miss Swan.”

And it’s the way she says it, like there’s no discussion to be had, like it’s already been decided, that worries Emma the most.

“Why the hell not?” Emma demands, opening her eyes a little too quickly. The ground tilts under her, and she plants a hand to steady herself, rocks and branches digging into her palm.

“Because you’ve most likely got a concussion,” Regina tells her. “Which means you’ll be useless when it comes to rowing the boat back to the ship.”

“We shouldn’t need to row much,” Emma says. “We’ll be going with the current this time.” 

Regina shakes her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. There’s a smear of blood on her jawline, bright red against the tan of her skin. “You’re in no condition to travel, Miss Swan.”

Emma sighs. “Regina -- ”

“I’m not leaving this island without looking for Henry,” Regina says, cutting her off.

“We'll come back and look for Henry first thing tomorrow,” Emma says, trying to put on her best let’s-be-reasonable-here voice. Because she wants to look for Henry just as much as Regina does, but they need back-up and a better plan than just getting hit over the head and wandering around the jungle. “If we’re not back by tonight, everyone will worry.”

“Then let them,” Regina snaps. “If you want to run back to mommy and daddy I won't stop you. But I came here to find my son, Miss Swan, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

Emma sits up as straight as she can, ignoring the way her head throbs, suddenly as angry with Regina as she can ever remember being. “I want to find Henry _just_ as much as you do, Regina, but -- ” she starts, but then Regina’s reaching out and pressing her hand over Emma's mouth, forcing her to stop talking, a look of sudden panic on her face. 

After about half a second, Emma realizes why -- the sound of voices, faint but unmistakable in the distance. They both freeze, eyes wide, argument forgotten.

Regina’s still got her hand over Emma’s mouth; she tastes like earth and blood, and Emma’s suddenly dizzy again, the world tilting dangerously around her. Whoever's talking seems to be moving fast, and oh god, they’re going to get caught. But then Regina’s grabbing her wrist and pulling Emma up in one swift movement. “This way,” she says. 

The ground seems to tilt under Emma's feet, and she starts to stumble, but Regina’s there, Regina’s got her, holding her up and half-dragging, the two of them moving away from the voices. Emma’s head is pounding and she can feel blood dripping down her face again and they’re making too much noise, crashing through the undergrowth, Emma still stumbling every couple of steps over the roots and rocks that litter the jungle floor. 

The voices are louder now -- too loud, they must be right there, they must be able to see them or hear them or something -- but then Regina’s pushing her down and Emma falls, falls past the underbrush, her back finally hitting something cool and hard and rough. Regina follows her down, landing on top of her, their bodies flush, Regina’s cheek against hers.

It takes Emma a second to realize they’re in some kind of cave, the two of them tucked away behind ferns and palmettoes and some exotic looking flowers, red and waxy and fragrant. Beside her, Regina’s breathing hard, her chest heaving against Emma’s and her breath puffing rapid against her cheek. The cave is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, and Emma’s having trouble breathing, the air too thick and dense, whatever those flowers are filling their little hiding place with a cloying, heady smell. 

The voices are louder now, and she can hear the crack of branches as whoever’s out there stomps through the jungle. Emma closes her eyes and tries to relax, tries to catch her breath. Regina’s body is hot against hers.

“They were here,” a voice says, from somewhere very close to them. Emma’s heart is pounding in her chest, and for one irrational minute, she's convinced the sound of her heartbeat is going to give Regina and her away. “Two of them. Girls. I saw them, I swear.”

Someone else laughs, high and hysterical, just as another voice asks, “Girls?” The second voice is deeper, older, and with a strangely threatening edge. The laughter cuts off abruptly. 

“Well,” the first voice says, hedging. “They maybe weren’t girls. More like...ladies.”

That laugh again, a trill giggle that sets Emma's teeth on edge.

“Meaning what?” The deeper voice asks.

A sigh, and a sound like someone’s scuffing their in the dirt. Emma keeps her eyes closed, willing her heart to stop pounding and holding her breath. Beside her, Regina is incredibly still. Finally: “They were _old._ ”

Emma’s eyes blink open, and Regina’s right there, her eyes wide and a look of almost-comical outrage on her face. 

“How old?” Deep Voice demands.

“Old, old. Like...grown-up old. Like they were someone’s _moms,_ ” the voice finishes, and there’s an edge of longing there that makes suddenly makes Emma miss Henry so much her chest feels tight. 

"Moms," another voice -- the voice of the the laugher, Emma guesses -- says, sounding wistful. 

“Hmm,” Deep Voice says, swinging his club at a fern just inches from Emma’s face. She flinches, her forehead knocking painfully against Regina’s. Her vision starts to go black around the edges, and she grabs hold of Regina’s hand, squeezing it tightly to keep herself from yelling out. Finally: “Well, they’re not here now, and we need to get moving. He wants us back tonight to watch the boy. ”

Regina’s fingers twitch in hers, and Emma tightens her hand, knowing with absolute certainty that if Regina could use her magic here, these boys would be dead, obliterated in a cloud of thick purple smoke.

The voices keep talking, and Emma strains to hear, listening for any more references, to _the boy,_ but there aren’t any, just bickering about the best route they should take to get back home. Which actually would be useful information if Emma could actually keep track of what they’re saying, but it’s hard for her to concentrate, and the snatches of conversation she does hear sound completely meaningless.

Eventually, the voices start to fade as the boys move away from them, their conversation fading away into the distance. 

“We should follow them.” Regina’s already pushing herself out of the cave, a determined look on her face.

Emma pulls her back down, Regina landing gracelessly on top of her, the two of them nose-to-nose, Emma’s arms around Regina’s back. Regina’s still got the gun tucked against the small of her back, the metal slick and cool under Emma's fingertips. “Follow them? Now?” 

“No, Miss Swan. We should wait until we’ve lost them,” Regina hisses. “Yes, now.” 

She starts to push herself up, but Emma holds on to her, forcing her to stay in the cave. “We can’t.” 

“They could lead us to Henry.” There’s a desperate edge to Regina’s voice, so intense that Emma’s suddenly worried that she might leave her here, might do something stupid in the name of her newfound attachment to heroics.

“They could also find us and kill us,” Emma says seriously, flicking her head slightly so her hair falls away from the gash on her head. It must look pretty bad because Regina swallows hard and turns away.

After a couple more seconds, Regina’s body relaxes, the fight seeming to go out of her as she sags against Emma. 

“We will find Henry,” Emma tells her, loosening her grip, but keeping her arms around Regina. "But we need to be smart about this. We can’t just go stumbling blindly through the jungle in the dark, randomly hoping we don’t get beaten to death by a gang of psychopathic kids.”

After what feels like a very long time, Regina nods. “Fine.”

“Okay,” Emma says relieved. The voices are gone now, and it’s quiet again except for the soft sounds of the jungle around them, the insects and the wind and the far-off rush of the tides.

They need move, she knows. The cave has started to feel kind of cozy and Emma’s getting drowsy, which is probably a bad thing if she’s got a concussion. When Regina tries to push herself up again, Emma lets her, letting her arms fall away from Regina’s back. Without Regina next to her, Emma suddenly's cold, shivering slightly as the night air hits her skin.

Regina takes a deep breath once she’s on her feet, looking up into the darkness of the trees above them, her throat long and pale in the moonlight. After a second, she reaches down and takes both of Emma’s hands in hers, helping her get to her feet. It takes an embarrassing amount of effort and once Emma’s vertical again, she’s almost out of breath.

“Do you think you’ll be able to make it back to the boat?” Regina asks doubtfully 

“I thought you didn’t want to row back tonight,” Emma manages. The truth is, she’s not sure if she can make it that far. 

“We need somewhere to stay for the night,” Regina says with a shrug. “The boat’s as good a cover as any.”

Emma sighs. Regina’s right. They need to head for cover. She feels weirdly exposed just standing here, a tense knot of anxiety in her throat as she thinks about what could happen to them if the Lost Ones come back. Finally: “I can make it.”

Regina gives her a dubious look, but slides her arm around Emma’s back, letting Emma lean into her as they make their way over towards the shore.

The walk back to the dinghy is slow and silent. Emma leans heavily against Regina’s side, expending most of her energy on trying not to pass out. Her head feels strangely big, and her left eye is swollen almost completely shut. 

When the finally reach the boat, only a couple of inches of the hull visible through the pile of branches she and Regina stacked onto it earlier, Emma almost sobs in relief.

She does as much as she can to help Regina clear away some of the branches -- enough for them to be able to get in the boat, but not so many that it’ll be easily visible -- and before too long they’ve managed to uncover the stern. Regina helps Emma inside, the two of them clinging to each other in the darkness.

“You should sleep,” Emma says once they’re both in the dinghy. They’re lying on their backs, pressed together from their shoulders to their ankles. “I’ll stay awake. Keep watch.”

Regina huffs out a laugh. “You could barely stay awake on the walk out here.”

“I’ll manage,” Emma says. The pain in her head has faded to a dull throb, but it’s still bad enough that she doubts she’ll be able to sleep.

Regina shakes her head, but then she’s turning onto her side, her face against Emma’s shoulder. “Okay,” she murmurs. “But if we get captured tonight, I’m going to kill you.”

The corner of Emma’s mouth quirks up in a smile. They’re close enough to the edge of the jungle that she can see the stars above them, bright in the dark of the sky, foreign constellations she doesn’t recognize.

It’s only a couple of minutes before Regina’s breathing changes, going slow and even, and before too long the rhythm starts to lull Emma to sleep.

She bends her leg, trying to get more comfortable, and her knee catches Regina’s, her leg sliding between Regina’s thighs. Emma freezes and Regina’s breath stutters, the sound loud and harsh in Emma’s ear. 

The air around them is dense and warm, and Emma keeps her leg where it is, her eyes flickering closed as Regina shifts beside her, her lips brushing against Emma’s cheek. She feels light-headed and a little dizzy as she turns her head slightly, pressing her lips against Regina’s. 

She tastes just like she did that morning, cool and salty and familiar, after after just a few seconds, Regina’s sliding over until she’s on top of her. When Regina reaches up to skim her fingers below Emma’s shirt, Emma bucks against her, their foreheads almost colliding. 

“Careful, Miss Swan,” Regina murmurs. It’s quiet in the boat, just the muffled sounds of the surf, and it’s like they’re in their own little world, realms away from the Lost Ones and Peter Pan and the _Jolly Roger_ , and when Regina slides her tongue along Emma’s bottom lip it’s like everything else disappears. 

Emma’s spent all day not thinking about all of this -- about the way Regina’s breath turns shallow, about the saltwater taste of her mouth, about smoothness of her skin and the way the corner of her mouth curls up when Emma nips at that damn scar. And she knows this is still a mistake -- that it will always be a mistake (no matter how much she wants it, no matter how right it might feel) -- but she can feel Regina’s heart beating alongside hers and it’s just been a really long day. 

Her head’s still throbbing, pounding in time with her pulse, and she holds Regina on top of her, her hands on the sharp planes of Regina’s hips, closing her eyes as the world seems to spin all around her.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma wakes up to the sound of voices, low, intense whispering that she can’t quite make out.

“Regina?” she tries to say, but her throat is dry and scratchy and the name doesn’t actually come out. She clears her throat, trying to push herself to a sitting position as the whispering stops. “Regina?”

“Emma?” a voice says, not Regina, higher and softer and worried. Mary Margaret. “She’s awake. David! She’s awake.” 

When Emma finally manages to open her eyes, they’re huddled over her, both of them looking at her with wide, worried eyes. 

“Are you okay?” David asks, just as Mary Margaret says, “How are you feeling?”

“I”m...yeah,” Emma manages, licking her lips and swallowing hard. Her throat is so dry. “I’m fine,” she tells them about a second before she realizes that it’s true. Her head doesn’t hurt anymore, and other than how exhausted she is, she actually feels fine. Confused, she reaches up tentatively to touch her temple, feeling around for a wound that apparently isn’t there. What the hell? 

“How...” she starts, but doesn’t know what she wants to ask exactly. How long has she been unconscious? How did her head get fixed? How the hell did she get back on the ship?

But David must notice her confusion because he gives her a one-sided smile. “Magic,” he tells her. "Gold healed you."

“Oh.” Emma looks around the room, disoriented. 

“We were so worried,” Mary Margaret tells her, smoothing a strand of hair off Emma’s forehead. Her hand is soft and cool against Emma’s skin. “You didn’t come back that first night, and then...” she trails off, sounding choked and shaking her head. “But,” she says after a couple of seconds, blinking her eyes and giving Emma a watery smile. “You’re okay now.”

“I’m okay now,” Emma confirms, and tries to smile, but her cheeks feeling strange, tight and stiff. She glances at the porthole, squinting a little at the orange-red light filtering in through the grimy glass. It could be sunrise or sunset, she has no idea. “How long was I out?”

“It’s been two days,” David says. Beside him, Mary Margaret brushes a tear off her cheek

“Where’s Regina?” Emma asks. Her parents both start guiltily, and Emma feels a tight knot of anxiety form in her throat.

“She’s in the brig,” David finally says in a quiet voice. “We weren’t sure exactly what happened while you were in Neverland and we just...”

“We thought it would be safer this way,” Mary Margaret finishes. David shoots her a grateful look. “You were just gone so much longer than we thought you would be, and we were so worried. And then when you did get here, you were unconscious and you were hurt, and Regina was...she was fine," Mary Margaret says with the barest edge of anger. "And she was covered in your blood.” 

Emma feels sick, that anxiety starting to choke her a little as she realizes what they’re telling her. “So you locked her in the brig?” Emma says, disbelieving. “She saved me.”

“What happened out there, Emma?” David sounds as calm and reasonable as always, like this whole Regina thing isn't a big deal, and Emma sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She might as well tell them now, she knows. It’s not like they’re going to be hopping onto the _Regina’s a hero_ bandwagon without some explanation. 

“Magic doesn’t work in Neverland,” Emma says, and her parents shoot each other worried looks. “Or at least, our magic doesn’t.”

“What happened?” David asks again.

Emma explains it to them -- the cloaking spell not working, Regina’s lack of magic, the attack by the Lost One, all of it. When she’s done, they both have slightly horrified looks on their faces. 

“So Regina really did save you,” Mary Margaret says, her forehead creased in confusion.

“Yeah.” Emma doesn’t bother asking them why they thought she had hurt Emma and then carried her unconscious body back to the ship. If there’s anything she’s learned since her life became some kind of whacked out fairy tale, it’s that blood feuds tend to lack logic.

“Well, we better go let her out.” David reaches into his pocket and fishes out a small set of keys, heading for the door.

“Wait,” Emma calls. She stands up too quickly, so fast that her head starts to spin and she has to grab onto the post of the bunk to steady herself. “Let me do it.”

“Emma -- " Mary Margaret starts, but Emma holds up a hand cutting her off. 

“Please.” Emma takes a deep, steadying breath. “Just...I have a feeling she’s not going to want to see either one of you right now and, besides.” She takes the keys from David, the metal cool against her palm. “I need to thank her for saving my life.”

Beside her, Mary Margaret makes a soft, hurt noise, but Emma just wraps her hands around the keys and heads for the door.

*

The brig is cool and dark, just one narrow hallway and a cell. Emma walks in slowly, not sure what to expect. It takes her eyes a second to adjust to the lack of light, and when they do, she sees Regina in the cell, sitting on the floor, her back to the wall, her posture ramrod straight and her legs out in front of her, crossed at the ankles.

She’s staring straight ahead at the rough steel bars of the cell, and Emma just watches her for a few seconds, feeling a little like she’s intruding. Regina’s still wearing the same clothes she was in Neverland, her shirt and jeans streaked with blood and dirt, and Emma feels a wave of guilt wash over her. 

“Hey,” she finally says. Her voice sounds loud and harsh in the silence of the brig. 

Regina looks over at her and, Jesus Christ. She looks terrible, her face pale and drawn and these dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t slept in days. For a few seconds she doesn’t say anything, just gives Emma a wary look, like she’s not sure what to expect.

“You’re okay,” Regina finally says, and her voice is quiet and hard to read.

“That seems to be the consensus,” Emma says carefully, watching Regina through the bars. 

Regina just stares back at her, looking slightly wild and unkempt, and Emma has to look away from her to keep her hands steady enough to unlock the cell. When she slides the door open, it creaks loudly, the harsh sound making her wince. The dank smell of the brig, mildew and salt and rotten fish, hits her hard, and she breathes through her mouth, trying not to gag.

Emma takes a tentative step into the cell, her footsteps muted on the soft, damp wood. She gets that guilty feeling again, and she suddenly wishes she still had that gash on her head, that Gold hadn’t healed her. Just, something to show Regina that this wasn’t some kind of trade-off, Emma’s safety for Regina’s pain.

When she gets over to where Regina is, she slides down to sit next to her, the wood of the ship damp and uncomfortably soft under her clothes. Regina still hasn’t said anything, just watches her closely with a neutral expression as Emma settles in beside her, carefully leaving some space between the two of them. 

She’s not sure what she wants to say, if she should start with apologizing for Regina getting locked up or thank her for saving her or ask her how they even got back to the ship, but then she glances down at Regina’s hands and they’re red and raw, basically one giant blister, splinters embedded in her fingers.

“Jesus Christ," Emma gasps. "What the hell happened?” 

“I’m fine, Miss Swan,” Regina says instead of answering, curling her hands into loose fists, and staring back at her almost defiantly.

“Did you...is that from having to row us back to the ship?” God, this self-sacrificing thing is _so weird_ coming from her. Emma’s not sure she’ll ever get used to it. 

“Yes, well....” Regina clears her throat and glances down at her hands in her lap. “I couldn’t wake you up, and we needed to get off that island. And, anyway," she says with a shrug, "if something terrible happens to you while you’re under my watch, Henry would never forgive me.”

Emma smiles wryly. “ _Am_ I under your watch?”

“Apparently not,” Regina says, sounding equal parts irritated and exhausted. “In fact, I’m surprised your doting parents allowed you to come down here at all.”

Emma ignores the dig and nods down at Regina’s hands. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?” she asks, not bothering to mention the fact that Regina hasn’t used magic to free herself from this embarrassingly shabby little prison.

Instead of answering, Regina holds up her left hand, letting her sleeve fall away to reveal a thick leather cuff clamped around her wrist. At first, Emma thinks it’s some kind of shackle, but it’s not attached to anything, no chains or manacle holding her to the wall. It doesn’t even go all the way around, a thin strip of pale white skin peeking out between the leather. 

“What is that?” 

“It’s an anti-magic cuff,” Regina says disdainfully, in this voice like this is the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. 

“What?”

“Just a little gift from Tamara and Greg,” Regina says, glaring down at the cuff. “All part of their grand plan to rid us of the evils of magic.”

Emma’s heart starts racing, a sick feeling in her stomach. “Were they -- " 

“Hook had it on him,” Regina interrupts, glancing up at her sharply. “Trust me, Miss Swan. If I had seen either one of those idiots, they’d be nothing more than _dust._ ”

“How do we get it off?” The cuff looks like it should lift right off, but obviously it doesn’t. She can’t imagine Regina just sitting down here, full of impotent rage, martyring herself to make some kind of point. 

Regina holds out her arm to Emma, palm up. Emma glances down, wincing a little at Regina's hands, the mess of blisters and splinters. She touches the cuff tentatively, not really sure what she expects to happen. Nothing does, so she wraps her fingers around it and pulls. The cuff slides off Regina’s wrist easily, the leather smooth in Emma’s hand. 

“Is that it?” Emma asks dubiously, holding the cuff in front of her. It still doesn't look particularly impressive, but she figures it must be pretty powerful if it's helped keep Regina locked up down here. She slips it into her pocket and pushes herself up, reaching a hand down towards Regina.

Regina glances up at her, ignoring Emma's hand, her dark eyes bright. Emma takes an unconscious step back as Regina flicks her hands in front of her, a quick spark of purple dust rising between them in the darkness. 

Emma flinches without meaning to, raising her hands to guard herself from whatever magic Regina’s using. But nothing happens, and when she lowers her arms, Regina’s just standing there, her hands healed, the skin on her palms white and clean and flawless again.

“Are you quite alright, Miss Swan?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, feeling ridiculous. The cuff is heavy in her pocket. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Regina smirks, walking out of the cell with her head held high. “You Charmings really need to work on your trust issues.”

*

Dinner that night is, well. Awkward would be an understatement. Gold’s doing the whole not leaving his cabin thing again -- some big secret magic project he’s working on that Emma’s pretty sure is just him trying to figure out a way to communicate with Belle -- and Hook’s doing some kind of vague sea captain stuff up on the deck, so it’s just Regina and Emma and her parents, the four of them sitting around the rickety wooden table outside the galley, tensely eating watery vegetable soup, none of them saying much.

Regina keeps glaring at Mary Margaret, who looks like she’s trying as hard as she can to pretend she doesn’t notice. Meanwhile, David keeps sliding sideways glances in Emma’s direction, like he wants to ask her something but is waiting for the perfect time. For her part, Emma just tries to keep her head down and finish her soup. She’s still feels completely exhausted, way too tired to have to negotiate peace between the dysfunctional fairy tale characters who make up her family.

Finally, just Emma stands up, about to make a break for her cabin, David clears his throat and says, “So, uh, your mother and I were thinking...”

“Yeah?” Emma says, still standing next to the table, empty soup bowl in hand. She shoots Mary Margaret a curious glance, but her mother just looks back at her with a hopeful smile. “About what?”

“Well,” Mary Margaret says slowly. She glances quickly at Regina again before her gaze darts back up to Emma. “David’s going to be filling in for Gold in the watch tonight, so we thought you might want to stay in our room.”

“Oh.” Emma chances a quick look at Regina, who’s watching the whole exchange with a carefully neutral expression, not looking at Emma at all. “Well, I don’t want to inconvenience you guys.”

“Oh, it’s no inconvenience,” Mary Margaret says quickly. She’s still giving Emma that hopeful smile. “We just thought it might be nice for Regina to have the cabin to herself for a night, and you’re probably still feeling the effects from the spell...”

Emma nods, considering. It’s just, she knows Mary Margaret’s worried about her, wants to make sure she’s really okay after what happened to her on Neverland, but she doesn’t want to...what? Hurt the Evil Queen’s feelings by giving her some space? God, Emma would _love_ a night with a room all to herself. And then there’s that whole thing where whenever she and Regina are alone together they seem to have a troubling tendency to start making out...

She glances over at Regina again, hoping to get some help, but Regina's still not looking at her. Finally: “Okay, yeah,” Emma tells Mary Margaret. “That sounds good.”

An expression -- hurt or relief, she’s not sure which -- flickers across Regina’s face, too fast for Emma to be able to read it, and Regina stands up quickly, her chair scraping loudly across the floor. “Well,” she says with a bright, brittle smile. Emma’s stomach sinks. “Seems like you’ll be protected from my evil clutches for at least one more night, Miss Swan.”

“Regina...” Emma says, but Regina ignores her, stalking out of the room, her steps echoing down the hall.

Beside her, Mary Margaret looks upset, eyes wide with confusion. “I thought she’d be glad to have the extra space. We didn’t mean...”

Emma sighs, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “Yeah, I know,” she says. God, this whole thing is such a mess. “I know.”

*

Emma can’t sleep. Maybe it’s because of the two days she spent unconscious or maybe it’s that she’s not in her own bunk or maybe it’s the way every time she closes her eyes she thinks about Regina in the brig, her back rigid and straight, her shirt covered in Emma’s blood and her hands blistered and torn. Whatever the reason, she’s spent the last few hours just lying in bed, listening to Mary Margaret snore quietly in the bunk above her and tossing and turning. Finally, she pushes the blankets off her and slides out of bed, the floor damp and cool beneath her feet.

For a moment, she considers going above deck, but Hook’s got watch with David tonight, and she’s really not in the mood to deflect all the sexual innuendos. So instead, she just tiptoes out into the hallway, feeling sort of ridiculous, like she’s a teenager sneaking out in the middle of the night, as she closes the door gently behind her so she doesn’t wake up Mary Margaret.

She’s got the door to her and Regina’s room pushed halfway open before she even realizes what she’s doing. 

The room is dark, just some silver-white moonlight streaming in through the porthole in the corner, and Regina’s in the bottom bunk again, the shape of her just visible in the dim light, the sheets slung low around her hips, her hands hidden somewhere below the covers. She’s breathing sort of heavy, like she’s having a nightmare or something, and Emma takes another step forward into the room, thinking she should wake Regina up, when she notices that she’s moving in the bed, writhing a little, her breathing getting faster, harsh and ragged in the silence, and oh. Oh god. 

Emma’s stomach flips and her heart beat picks up, and she should leave, she should, but instead she takes another small step into the room, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet. 

Regina’s breath stutters and her eyes blink open, and Emma freezes, one hand still on the doorknob, her heart beating a little wildly. 

“Miss Swan?” Regina’s voice is soft, breathless and shaky. 

This is, just. Emma should leave. She really, really should. She should just go back into the hall, walk back to David and Mary Margaret’s room, pretend she was never here. 

But instead, she just takes another step into the room, closing the door softly behind her, like her mind and her body are completely disconnected, like she’s got no control over what she’s doing right now. 

She keeps walking forward, covering the six steps it takes her to get from the door to the bed, and then she sits down on the bottom bunk, keeping a little space between her and Regina. But then Regina shifts a little closer to her, sliding over so that her hip nudges up against Emma’s. The air in the room feels thick, heavy like there’s not enough oxygen, and Emma takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“I, um...I couldn’t sleep,” she says into the darkness, her voice coming out a lot more steady than she feels. Her skin feels hot and her clothes suddenly seem too tight, pressing uncomfortably close to her body.

“I see,” Regina says, and she still sounds kind of breathless. 

Emma can’t stop looking at Regina, at the otherworldly, silvery cast of moonlight on her skin. Above them, she can hear footsteps -- David pacing the deck as he keeps watch -- and Regina’s just watching her with dark, hooded eyes. 

The moonlight's turned everything in the room black and white, and the ship’s swaying gently, and everything feels strange, hazy and dream-like. When Emma leans over and presses her lips against Regina’s, she’s barely even surprised at herself. 

Regina’s lips are warm and soft and she tastes so familiar it makes Emma’s stomach flip, and then Regina’s pulling her down on top of her, her free hand wrapped around the nape of Emma’s neck, her fingers tangling in her hair.

There’s still probably a few more hours until dawn, and Emma settles her weight on top of Regina. Regina’s other hand is still under the covers, and Emma feels her body shift, hears the slick sound of skin on skin and, Jesus, Regina’s still touching herself, her hand moving beneath the sheets as Emma sucks on her lower lip. 

Emma trails her fingers down the length of Regina's arm, ghosting her fingertips along the contours of her skin until she gets to Regina’s wrist, hot against the thin, soft fabric where it disappears below her pajama bottom, moving her hand downwards until she's got her fingers entwined with Regina's. Regina gasps against Emma's mouth, and her fingers are slick, hot and wet as they slide against Emma’s, her hips jerking upward as Emma follows her lead, touching Regina everywhere she touches herself. 

There are too many layers between them, pajamas and sheets and Emma keeps Regina’s hand in hers, thin and strangely fragile, as she squirms around, trying to push the covers away.

Her shirt’s gotten rucked up and so has Regina’s and they’re suddenly skin to skin, Regina's breasts full and soft against Emma's chest, and everything's moving so fast, this thing that's happening between them feeling urgent and vaguely unreal, but Emma can’t stop, can’t make herself slow down, the whole thing taking on a strange feeling of inevitability.

It feels like something she's wanted forever, even if she's still not willing to admit that to herself, and maybe this will be just another weapon that Regina can use against her one day, but she doesn't think so. Instead, she thinks that this might be the start of something new, a shift between them, permanent and irrevocable.

And, suddenly, it's all too much to think about, too overwhelming, so she stops thinking about it altogether, and curls her fingertips up, smiling a little when Regina rocks against her, making a soft, helpless noise deep in her throat. Emma keeps touching her, stroking her fingers where Regina's so hot and wet, and after just a couple of seconds, Regina's whole body tenses and she throws her head back, the curve of her throat pale in the darkness, gasping, her eyes closed and her body shaking. Emma keeps her eyes open the whole time, watching as Regina comes apart beneath her. 

After what feels like a very long time, Regina pulls her wrist free and reaches down to push Emma’s pajama pants off her hips. Regina's eyes blink open and Emma’s suddenly staring into her dark eyes, her pupils huge and strangely bright in the darkness. Her breath is warm and rapid against Emma's cheek, her lips red and swollen, and Emma's never wanted anything as much as she wants this right now.

When Regina finally slips a hand between her legs, Emma has to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning, suddenly very aware of how close quarters everything is down here, everyone on the ship just a few yards away. But then Regina’s curling her fingers up inside of her and suddenly Emma doesn’t care about anything else, her body shuddering and shaking against Regina's as Regina keeps kissing her, swallowing all of the noises Emma's making.

Once she feels like she can catch her breath, Emma opens her eyes to look at Regina, her dark hair tangled against the pillows, her face bright in the darkness. Regina's watching her closely, a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"Are you alright, Miss Swan?" she asks, and she sounds so much like her old self, regal and superior that Emma can't help it, she laughs, deep and happy and relieved.

"Yeah," she finally manages, feeling strangely light. She's got her head on Regina's shoulder, and her arm flung across Regina's waist. The light in the room is starting to turn grey with the first hint of the dawn, and as soon as it's morning all this easiness between them will be complicated again, but for right now, for this moment, everything seems like it might, one day, be okay. "Yeah, I'm alright."


	6. Chapter 6

Emma has to sneak back into her parents’ cabin before dawn, being as quiet as she can so she doesn't wake Mary Margaret. It's actually kind of strange, like she’s finally getting to be a normal rebellious teenager, sneaking out at night to hook-up with the kind of bad girl parents are always warning their kids about.

But despite her tiptoeing and closing the door as softly as she can, Mary Margaret wakes up with a start when Emma's still in the middle of the room, sitting bolt upright in the top bunk, her hair sticking up in about a million different directions.

“Emma?” she says groggily, her voice thick with sleep. “Are you okay?”

Emma freezes, trying not to panic, trying to look normal, trying to act like she didn’t just spend the night with her mother’s worst enemy. “Y-yeah,” she finally stutters, her heart racing. “I was just...I wanted some water.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret blinks, looking sleepy and confused. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Your water,” Mary Margaret says with a puzzled half-smile.

“Um,” Emma stalls, and all she can think about is the way Regina looked in the moonlight, the pale, smooth expanse of her skin. She looks at the ground, hoping it’s too dark for Mary Margaret to make out the blush creeping up her cheeks. “I drank it?”

Mary Margaret nods, her eyes already drifting closed again. “Okay,” she mumbles, lying down again, disappearing back under the covers. 

Emma lets out a low, shaky breath, and collapses onto the bottom bunk. She’s exhausted, but it takes her a long time to fall asleep, watching as the light turns from grey to orange, thinking about the feel of Regina’s body moving against hers and trying to figure out what the hell she’s doing. 

*

When Emma finally wakes up, there’s bright late morning sunlight streaming in through the porthole, and Mary Margaret's gone, her place taken by David sleeping in the top bunk. 

She makes her way up to the deck, where Hook and Mary Margaret and Regina are all up at the helm, the three of them standing around the wheel and talking in low voices. For one strange, brief moment, they look almost normal -- civil and almost friendly -- but then she blinks and she sees the tight look on Mary Margaret’s face and the way Hook rolls his eyes at whatever Regina’s saying, and Emma rubs a hand across her face. God, why can’t any of this ever be easy?

It’s another bright, sunny day, the sky clear beyond the pale purple haze of the cloaking spell. Emma hangs back, still feeling a little disoriented, trying to get her bearings, but after just a couple of minutes Mary Margaret spots her. 

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says, smiling and looking relieved. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She stands between Regina and Mary Margaret, feeling weirdly self-conscious. She tries really hard not to think about the salty-sweet taste of Regina’s skin or the sounds she made when Emma touched her. “What are you guys arguing about?”

“Hook and your mother think we need to be trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat,” Regina says, giving Emma a dark look.

“We?” Emma repeats, incredulous. “Like you and me?”

“Yes, Miss Swan,” Regina says wryly. “Apparently, you and I are the weak links in this rag-tag group of soldiers.”

Emma looks at her mother, eyebrows raised. “I think we’re fine.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret says, her voice gentle. “We’re going to need to plan an attack on Neverland. And you’re going to have to be able to defend yourself with a sword or a bow, and it’s just...it’s a good idea if you have a little training, especially after...” She trails off, not directly saying that when she and Regina were left to defend themselves, she ended up bloody and unconscious. 

Still, though. That was only because they weren’t paying attention, not because they’re bad at fighting. “Yeah, see, here’s the thing,” she says. “I’ve got a gun, and I used a sword and a bow back in the Enchanted Forest, so. I think I’m good. And Regina...” she chances a glance at Regina, who’s watching her with an expectant look on her face. “Probably has lots of experience, right?”

“Please,” Regina says, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin haughtily. “I watched my guards fighting regularly. And they were hardly geniuses. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Of course,” Hook says with a grin. “Because there’s nothing like standing idly by while peasants die in vain defending your besmirched honor to teach a girl how to fight.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Regina snaps, the magic already starting to crackle from her fingertips. Hook just laughs, and Mary Margaret looks at Emma imploringly.

“Fine,” Emma sighs, ignoring the way Regina’s turned to glare at her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Emma starts off with Mary Margaret, going over the basics of the bow. Gold’s apparently set up some magical system where they have a replenishing quiver, and she spends almost an hour launching arrow after arrow into the ocean. By the time Regina stomps over and announces she’s done putting up with Hook and she’s ready to learn the bow, Emma’s fingers are numb and there are deep lines indented into her fingertips from holding the bowstring. 

And maybe she should try to do some mediating between Regina and Mary Margaret before leaving them together with a deadly weapon, but really she just wants this whole ridiculous thing over with, so she hands the bow to Regina, their fingers brushing a little and then trudges over to where Hook’s waiting with the swords. Besides, Mary Margaret’s been dealing with Regina for years, so it’s not like she needs Emma to hold her hand on this. 

*

As far as non-gun weapons go, Emma actually prefers the sword to the bow. But the lesson itself starts off kind of painful, mostly due to Hook’s insistence on turning everything he says about the weapon into some kind of creepy penis metaphor. She mostly tries to tune him out, focusing instead on getting the feel for the sword, balancing the heavy weight of it while staying steady on her feet. 

They work through the basic moves pretty quickly, parrying and blocking, stuff that actually comes pretty easily to Emma. The more involved maneuvers -- the ones she’ll probably need if she’s actually fighting someone with even basic skills -- take a lot longer to figure out, these complicated moves that leave her arms shaking. But it’s actually kind of fun, and after a while, she’s totally focused on it, even Hook mostly dropping the lame innuendos to focus on sparring with her.

She’s stuck on one particular move -- “throwing the point,” Hook calls it -- and is getting so frustrated that she’s about to give up. Finally, Hook sighs and puts down his own sword, coming to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around hers and guiding her in the move. They have to do it a few times, and Emma’s so wrapped up in getting the feel for it, that she tries to ignore it as long as she can once his guiding turns into ogling.

“You are good at this, love,” Hook murmurs in her ear. He takes another step closer to her, so that he’s pressed against her back, his hand coming up to rest lightly on her hip. “Very nice form.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls the sword back so that her elbow just happens to jab into his stomach. Hard. He makes a sharp wheezing sound, like the wind’s been knocked out of him. 

“Sorry,” she says with a smirk. 

“That’s alright, love,” he says, but he still sounds a little pained and he takes a few steps away from her. “I like it rough.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Just get back over there so we can try this thing.”

“Of course, milady,” he says, bowing at her and giving her a wink. And she can’t help it, she laughs, feeling a strange surge of affection for him. He’s just so ridiculous, with his leather and his eyeliner and his clumsy leering.

Across the deck, Regina’s watching them with a scowl, her eyes narrowed. Beside her, Mary Margaret is trying to show her how to aim the bow and hold the arrow steady, a brittle smile on her face. 

Emma tries not to worry too much about it, the two of them have been fighting each other for decades, and Emma really wants to get this move right. By the time she finally does master it, Regina’s disappeared somewhere, and Mary Margaret's standing alone on the other side of the ship, shooting arrow after arrow into the sea.

When Emma finally hands the sword back to Hook and goes below deck, Regina’s right there, standing at the bottom of the ladder like she’s been waiting for her. She pushes Emma up against the wall, pressing her leg between Emma’s knees. Her eyes are dark, her pupils blown wide, and she kisses Emma roughly, nipping at her lower lip before pulling back to look at her, this strangely possessive look on her face. 

It takes Emma a second, but then she gets it, remembers how Regina was glaring at her and Hook up on the helm, and she laughs a little, stepping up close to her, pressing her body up against Regina’s. 

“What?” Regina demands. She’s trying to sound irritated, but her breath catches and Emma can’t seem to stop herself from smiling. 

“You’re jealous,” Emma says, trying and failing not to sound so amused. It’s just...she can’t believe Regina took any of that seriously. It was just Hook being Hook. 

“I most certainly am not,” Regina scoffs, tossing her head a little to flip her hair out of her eyes. 

“Yes, you are,” Emma tells her. “You’re jealous. Of _Hook._ ” 

“I’m not jealous,” Regina says. She’s got her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, this look on her face that a couple of months ago would have made Emma worried, but now just makes her stomach flip pleasantly.

Emma doesn’t get a chance to say anything else before Regina’s kissing her again, one hand cupped possessively against the back of Emma’s head, her fingers tangled in Emma’s hair. 

They’re out in the open here, even though there’s no one around, and Emma gets a little thrill even as she realizes they really, really shouldn’t be doing this here, where anyone could see them. So, yeah, she probably should put a stop to this, but Regina’s sucking lightly on her lower lip, her hips pressing insistently against hers, so instead she just snakes a hand under the hem of Regina’s shirt, pressing her palm agains the soft, warm skin of Regina's stomach, and kisses her back. 

Regina kisses like she does everything else, intense and focused, like she's trying to prove that she's the best at it. It was kind of disconcerting at first, but Emma's started to get used to it, the way that Regina puts her whole body into it, the way she makes Emma's stomach flip and her breath catch in her throat.

When Emma drags her fingertips across the soft skin below Regina’s ribs, Regina gasps, this low, shaky sound that makes Emma feel warm all over. She starts to move her hand up, ghosting her fingers up Regina’s body, scraping her fingernails across the ridges of her ribs, and Regina tightens her hand in her hair, pulling her head back a little as she starts to kiss her way down to Emma’s jaw.

She’s starting to suck lightly on her pulse point, tracing her tongue along the soft, sensitive skin on Emma's throat, when a door opens somewhere down the hallway, and they both spring apart, Regina moving away so quickly she knocks into the opposite wall, her back making a loud thump as it hits the wood. 

Her shirt’s all askew, rucked up on one side to reveal a thin strip of pale skin, and she tugs it down as Emma runs a hand through her hair, trying not to look like she was just about to have sex with her arch-nemesis in the middle of the hallway. 

When she finally looks up, Gold’s closing the door to his cabin carefully behind him, slipping something into his jacket pocket. Oh god, oh god, he probably didn’t see anything, right? Right. Definitely. Or, well. Probably. Hopefully. 

“Hey,” Emma says to him, her voice way too loud, and he looks up quickly, a hard to read expression on his face.

“Hello, Miss Swan,” he says, giving her a quick, curious glance. 

Emma resists the urge to fidget, smiling back at him in what she hopes is a casual way. After just a second, he glances over at Regina, and Emma thinks she may see a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, but it’s hard to tell. 

“Your Majesty,” he says, giving her a mocking little bow.

“Mr. Gold,” Regina says with a tight smile, carefully not looking at Emma. Her lips look a little swollen, red and wet, and Emma really hopes that it’s too dark in the hallway for Gold to notice.

He passes by without another word, making his way slowly up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Emma demands, once the deck hatch closes behind Gold.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Swan?” Regina asks. Her shirt is still rucked up a little, her hair mussed, and Emma cannot honestly believe Regina’s going to pretend like she has no idea what she’s talking about, like this is no big deal.

“Seriously, Regina? We could have -- someone could have seen us,” she hisses, tucking her shirt back in. “Gold basically did see us!”

“Please,” Regina snorts, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, tucking it neatly behind her ears. “If Gold saw something, he’d..." she trails off, her gaze shifting away from Emma to look distractedly at the thin lines of sunlight filtering through the closed hatch. 

“Regina?”

“Did you see what Gold was putting into his pocket?” she asks, sounding abruptly business-like.

“Uh...it looked like a hand mirror,” Emma says. Which, is actually pretty weird now that she thinks about it, but whatever. Gold’s kind of a weird guy. “Why?”

“No reason,” Regina says vaguely, but she’s already turning away from Emma like she’s going down the hall, but then David’s coming out of his room, blocking the hallway, looking at the two of them curiously.

“Hey.” He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and a couple of days worth of stubble on his cheeks. “Is everyone up there?” he nods at the hatch to the deck.

“Yeah.” Emma tries not to keep staring at Regina, but she’s looking kind of antsy and annoyed and Emma wracks her brain trying to figure out why Gold and his mirror have made her freak out. 

“Good,” David says, apparently oblivious to the tension in the hallway. “Did Snow tell you we’ve been working on a plan for when we get to the island?”

“Kind of,” Emma tells him. She forces herself to focus on him, not Regina. Whatever her deal is, now is not the time for them to get into it. “She had us training for hand-to-hand combat.”

“Good,” David says again, nodding. “You two have a few minutes to discuss it?” 

“Sure,” Emma says easily. Regina’s still kind of looking vaguely off into the distance, so Emma nudges her gently, just trying to get her attention. 

Regina blinks, her gaze coming into focus. “Of course,” she says, but she sounds strange, distracted and more than a little annoyed.

*

The plan they finally come up with isn’t particularly elegant: is a straightforward attack on Neverland. _Smash and grab,_ Hook calls it with a delighted smile. 

Now that Regina and Emma have had some practice with the bow and the sword, they’ll go ashore with Mary Margaret and David. Hook thinks he can sneak the _Jolly Roger_ into the port on the other side of the island, especially if Gold can keep the cloaking spell intact that close to Neverland. It’s incredibly risky, of course, after their recent on-island magic troubles, but Gold seems to think whatever magic-repellent the island has is limited to the actual island itself, not the surrounding waters. 

It’s not a great plan, but at least it’s something, and Emma feels better, having a sense of purpose. Or at least she does until Regina opens her mouth.

“It won’t work,” Regina announces. She’s got her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed over her chest, and she’s looking around at them like they’re all peasants, barely worthy of her attention. 

For a second, they all just stare at her, none of them sure what to say. It’s been a good couple of weeks since Regina’s gone full-on Evil Queen, and Emma guesses they’re all just a little out of practice. She tries to catch Regina’s eye, but she's studiously avoiding making eye contact with Emma.

“And why might that be, dearie?” Gold finally says. 

Regina smirks at him, this weirdly victorious look on her face. “Because, _Rumpel_ , magic doesn’t work in Neverland. Or did you not hear me the twenty times I’ve mentioned that.”

Gold rolls his eyes, impatient. “Yes, well, we won’t be in Neverland, your majesty. Hook and I will remain on the ship. Offshore.”

Regina snorts. “A technicality. It means nothing.”

“It means _everything._ ” Gold’s knuckles are white against the handle of his cane. “The magic will work aboard the ship.”

“No. It won’t. This plan will fail.”

“Regina,” Emma says, her voice low and full of warning. When Regina still doesn’t look at her, Emma reaches out and puts her hand around her wrist, squeezing gently. Gold gives her a sharp, curious look but she ignores him. “Stop.”

Regina yanks her hand out of Emma’s grasp, and seriously. What the hell is wrong with her all of a sudden? “Maybe you don’t care what happens to Henry, Miss Swan. But I do. And I’m not about to agree to this ridiculous plan just to feel as though I’m doing something useful.”

"Regina," Mary Margaret says with a gasp. “Why don't we all just try to focus on Henry, okay?" 

Regina turns on her fast, taking a threatening step towards her. “Don’t you dare imply that I’m not thinking about my son. He is _all_ I think about.” She reaches out fast and grabs Mary Margaret’s shoulder roughly, her fingers digging into Mary Margaret’s arm. Emma just stands there, not really sure what’s going on, what the hell has gotten into Regina over the past hour.

Mary Margaret gasps, making a shocked, pained sound, and then David’s stepping between her and Regina, but then there’s a flash of purple smoke and Regina’s gone, vanishing into the magic haze.

“Well,” Hook smirks once the smoke has cleared. “It’s good to see she’s changing her ways.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Emma snaps, and he laughs, holding up his hook in mock-surrender. 

Regina doesn’t come back, and the rest of them go over the plan again, Emma feeling confused and unsettled and more pissed off than she can remember being a very, very long time.

*

Afterwards, she goes down to her cabin, and Regina’s there, standing in front of the cloudy mirror in the bedroom, staring into it with an intense look on her face. She doesn’t move when Emma opens the door, still staring straight at the glass in front of her, like she doesn’t even realize Emma’s there, even though she should be clearly visible in the mirror. 

“What the hell was that?” Emma demands, trying to keep her voice down. 

Regina jumps a little, but doesn’t answer, turning away from the mirror. As she does, there’s a pop and a shimmer of purple, the tell-tale smell of ozone filling the room. Regina was practicing magic.

“What are you doing in here?” Emma asks, narrowing her eyes at the way Regina takes a small step to block the mirror.

“Nothing,” Regina shrugs, but Emma sees the tell-tale shimmer of magic in the warped glass behind her. 

“What is that?” She takes a step closer to the mirror, trying to peer around Regina to see what she’s hiding.

“It’s none of your business, Miss Swan,” Regina snaps.

“Like hell it's not,” Emma says, not bothering to keep her voice down any more. "Henry is my son."

"He is _my_ son," Regina hisses. "And I won't let any of you take him from me."

And, okay, Emma has no idea what's brought this on, but she knows it's not going to do any good, going around in this circle with Regina. So: “No one is trying to take Henry from you,” Emma says, trying to keep her voice even. “We all just want to find him.” Regina swallows hard and looks away. “And you’re just going to have to get over this whole thing with my parents and...and everybody. We need you, Regina. Please. Now: what are you doing in here?”

Regina doesn't answer, just sighs and then steps away from the mirror. But it doesn’t show Regina or Emma or the cabins, it’s some kind of village, and then she sees a group of cloaked figures and, holy shit. It’s Greg, standing there in the middle of the street, surrounded by Lost Ones. Emma’s heart lurches in her chest.

“How long have you been working on this?” she asks. She can’t take her eyes off the image in the mirror, the sight Greg’s thin, pinched face sending a surge of rage through her body so intense she’s practically shaking.

“Not long,” Regina says. Her voice sounds weak, tired and frustrated. “Just today.”

“And have you found him?” Emma’s heart is racing, pounding hard in her chest.

Regina shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair. It’s curling from the sea-air, and it sticks up behind her ear. “Not yet. But I’m close.”

“What can I do to help?” There has to be something she can do, anything to help get Henry back to them, back where he belongs.

But Regina shakes her head again, and then holds her hand in front of the glass. The image ripples and then shifts, sliding along to show more of the village, following Greg as he moves. But it only lasts for a few seconds before Regina’s hand starts shaking, and she leans over, bracing her hands on her knees, breathing hard and ragged, the image in the mirror frozen and blurred.

“Regina?”

“Just,” Regina starts, and takes a deep, shaky breath. “Just give me a second.” 

Emma waits, worried, until Regina straightens. She looks exhausted, there are dark circles under her eyes and her face is pale, but her hand is steady as she holds it front of the mirror. The magic that crackles out of her fingertips is bright, but flickering, and before Emma even really registers what she’s doing, she grabs Regina’s free hand, twining their fingers together. Regina gasps and looks over at her, and there’s a quick, intense surge as she holds her other hand up palm-out towards the mirror, the magic flowing between her and Regina bright and electric and alive.

The image in the mirror shimmers and comes into focus, strong and clear like they’re looking through a window as they watch Greg pull out a set of keys and go through a heavy wooden door. Emma holds tight onto Regina’s hand as Greg opens another set of doors and then he’s in a dark room, empty except for a figure sitting on the bare wooden floor. 

Emma’s chest tightens at the sight of Henry, at the way he’s sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, looking incredibly small and young and scared. And, god, she has just missed him _so much_ , missed him more than she would have ever though possible.

Beside her, Regina has started crying quietly, tears running down her face, and it takes Emma a second to realize she's crying to, her eyes blurry and her throat tight. When she tightens her hand in Regina's, Regina gives her a sideways smile, and the two of them stay like that for a long time, holding hands and watching their son as he sits in a room not all that far from them, looking scared and young and so very alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma and Regina stay with the mirror as long as they can, trying to figure out exactly where on the island Henry’s being held. It’s exhausting work, trying to focus their energy, trying not to break the connection. Regina’s got a pretty good handle on directing what they see, and even if they spend a lot longer than they need to just watching Henry in that room, they eventually manage to trace their way through the village to a dock where they can get ashore. 

It’s hard work, and Emma still has no idea how to control the magic, but Regina directs them confidently, and when Emma glances at her, she looks determined and energized -- happy, almost -- and Emma tries to pay attention to how she’s doing it, how she’s controlling and manipulating the energy to get her what she wants. Maybe when this is all over, Emma will ask her to teach her some things.

The two of them end up staying up almost until dawn, moving around the island, through the little village and over to the dock, over and over again, memorizing the path. They go back to Henry probably more than they should -- checking in on him even though he’s just sleeping, nothing useful actually happening in that room -- but they can’t seem to stop. They’ve just missed him so much. 

Eventually, they have to stop, the magic flickering and fading, both of them shaky and exhausted. They fall into bed, both of them in the bottom bunk, this strange unspoken agreement between them that that’s just how things are now.

They're both still lying there, the light in the cabin turning from black to grey, when Emma opens her eyes and asks, "What made you think about using the mirror?"

For a long minute, Regina doesn't answer, and Emma wonders if maybe she's already fallen asleep. But then: "Gold," Regina finally says.

It takes Emma a few seconds to catch on. "The hand mirror," she says. "In the hallway."

Regina huffs out a breath. "Most likely using it to communicate with that idiot Belle back in Storybrooke," she says, and Emma hears the sneer more than she sees it. "He's always had a weakness for that girl."

"Do you think he let us see it on purpose?" Emma asks, wishing that everyone would just stop with the subterfuge, just say what they wanted to say without thinly-veiled hints or sly insinuations.

"Does it matter?" Regina says, and she suddenly sounds very, very tired.

Emma doesn't answer, and Regina doesn't say anything else, sighing as she settles into the bed beside her. After just a few minutes, her breathing changes, going slow and even, and Emma lies there until the light in the cabin turns bright.

*

Once they’ve found their path to Henry, they decide they need get to Neverland as soon as possible, all of them hoping that they’ll have the element of surprise on their side. 

The Lost Ones have been out again at night, every now and then, their rowboats passing within a couple of yards of the _Jolly Roger_. But the cloaking spell seems to be holding strong, none of them so much as glancing in the ship’s direction. They still feel a little like sitting ducks, though, so their plan is to get ashore before anyone figures out what they’re up to.

They give themselves one day to prepare, figuring that it’s as good as anything. Gold says he’s confident in his spells and Hook knows these waters like the back of his remaining hand and both Snow and Charming are more than proficient at their weapons. So, really, it’s only Emma and Regina who actually need to do any kind of major preparations. 

Luckily, they’re both pretty good with the weapons -- Regina’s a crackshot with the bow and Emma’s more than decent with the sword -- so they spend the better part of the day practicing, Emma and David mock-dueling near the prow while Mary Margaret and Regina take target practice at the stern. 

It’s tiring and a little frustrating at times, the sun beating down on Emma’s skin and her arms shaky from holding the weapon, but they’re just so close to Henry. So she grips the hilt of the sword and readies for another bout of sparring with her father, spending the whole time going over the path to get to where Henry's being held, the roads they’ll follow to get there, the guards they’ll have to defeat. 

Every time she makes a jab towards David, or blocks one of his parries, she pictures Greg's weaselly little face, she pictures Tamara shooting Neal, she pictures Henry huddled cold and alone on a bare wood floor, and it’s enough to keep her going.

*

It’s just past sunset when Gold finds her alone on the deck, staring out into the vast blue-green ocean, her eyes locked on the hazy shape of Neverland in the distance.

“Good evening, Emma.” Gold looks better than he has in weeks, his face clean-shaven and his hair smooth and neat. Apparently, communicating with your girlfriend across realms leaves one feeling refreshed.

“Hey,” she says, glancing at him sidelong. “What’s up?”

Gold smiles, something she can’t place lurking behind his eyes. “I was simply coming to wish you luck on your journey tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” The mermaids are out again tonight, frolicking playfully in the waves, and Emma watches them in fascination. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Gold studying her, but she just keeps her eyes on the water, waiting him out.

“I see you’re becoming quite the swordsman,” he finally says. “Much more elegant than your father.”

Emma sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. She’s just way too tired to deal with...whatever the hell this is right now. “What do you want, Gold?”

“Just to let you know that you’re little mission tomorrow is doomed to fail.”

“What?” Emma just...Christ, can’t anything ever be _easy_?

“Miss Swan,” he says with a smile. “Do you honestly believe that the four of you will be able to just waltz in there with nothing but swords and bows, defeat untold numbers of those boys?” He’s still smiling, looking like he’s actually a little concerned about this.

Emma just gapes at him for a minute. “This was _your_ plan, Gold. You said it would work.”

“Indeed I did,” he agrees. 

“So why are you telling me this now?” Emma hisses, trying to keep her voice down. The last thing she needs is for all of them to get into another argument about what they should do. “When it’s too late to do anything about it?”

Gold leans closer, giving her a wry smile. “Ah, but it’s never too late, dearie,”

“What are you talking about?”

He flourishes his hand, one long, thin finger held up into the air. “Magic, of course!” 

Emma rolls her eyes and turns back towards the water. Two fins wave playfully towards the ship. “Magic doesn’t work in Neverland,” she reminds him. She’s getting a little tired of saying it, to be honest.

Gold nods and turns to watch the waves alongside her. “Regina’s magic doesn’t work in Neverland. Nor does mine,” he agrees. “But that doesn’t mean _no_ magic works in Neverland.”

Emma glances at him sidelong. “What are you talking about?” 

Gold watches her carefully, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. “There is one kind of magic that is stronger than all others. Powerful enough to break curses, to transcend realms. Even,” he says, leaning towards her conspiratorially, “to exist in a land without magic.”

Emma’s heart beat picks up. “What are you talking about?” she asks again.

“Oh, I think you know.” His gold tooth glints in the moonlight, making him look strange and threatening in the darkness.

“True love,” Emma says quietly, not really willing to think about what that might mean.

“Ah, now you’re getting it, Miss Swan.”

“But...what does that have to do with me?” she asks. Because she doesn’t know, because it can’t have anything to do with her, not now, not here. Not with Regina.

“Oh, I’m not sure now is the time to be coy, dearie,” he says, with a small, wry laugh. “Not when your dear boy’s life is on the line.”

“I’m not being coy, Gold. I’m being confused,” she snaps. She’s gripping the deck rail hard enough that the wood bites into her hand, sharp splinters digging into her palm. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Gold blinks, the corner of his mouth curling up in a knowing smile. “I think you know, Miss Swan. Regina is a lovely woman, after all,” he says with a small shrug. "One could hardly blame you for falling to her considerable... _charms._ "

She stares hard at him, shaking her head. “You’re wrong. That’s not...there’s not...You’re wrong, Gold.”

He shrugs and makes an expansive gesture. “Perhaps I am,” he says. “But I do hope for Henry’s sake that I’m not.”

Emma stands there, gaping at him, not sure what she’s supposed to say to that. It’s just...he’s wrong about her and Regina. He is.

“Goodnight, Miss Swan,” he says, and then he limps away, his cane tapping dulling against the deck, the sound echoing loudly in the silence of the night.

*

It’s a long time before Emma finally makes her way below deck, tiptoeing quietly down the hallway and into her cabin. 

She can just make out Regina’s silhouette in the bed, silent and still in the darkness. She stands in the doorway for a few minutes, letting her eyes adjust to the dark, before she toes off her boots and strips off her jacket and her jeans.

She figures Regina’s asleep, but she shifts as soon as Emma slides under the covers, turning so that they’re face to face.

“Hey,” Emma says, and her voice comes out kind of strange, high and tight. 

“What’s wrong?” Regina demands. She sounds completely awake and Emma wonders if she’s just been lying here in the dark for the past couple of hours.

“Nothing,” Emma says. For a second she thinks about telling Regina what Gold said, about magic and true love, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she gives Regina a small smile and says, “I’m just worried about tomorrow.”

Regina sighs, her breath warm against Emma’s lips. “Yeah,” she admits. “So am I.”

“What if something happens?” Emma asks, hating herself for doubting that they’ll find him, that they’ll save him, but not able to stop. “What if we can’t --” 

“We will find him,” Regina cuts her off sharply. “No one will keep my son from me, Miss Swan.” 

Her body’s gone tense and Emma can practically feel the anger radiating off of her, hot and alive. And even though Emma knows that some of that is directed at her -- that Emma is one of the very people Regina perceives as a threat to her relationship with Henry -- it makes her feel better, somehow, more sure of their plan. 

It’s just that everything’s been so strange lately, making her feel off-kilter and unbalanced. The conversation with Gold tonight just brought it all starkly into view, reminding her that there's a pretty good chance that their plan will fail, that they won’t save Henry after all. 

So she relishes that anger for a moment, pressing her body closer to Regina’s, trying to block all the doubt and the fear out of her mind completely, trying to just feel...whatever it is that Regina makes her feel these days ( _not love,_ she reminds herself a little frantically, sliding one hand along the hard line of Regina’s hip. _It’s not love_ ). 

Regina starts when Emma touches her, her body going even more rigid, and Emma hears her breathing change, the familiar shallow harshness loud in her ear. Regina kisses her hard, crushing her mouth against Emma’s, their teeth knocking painfully together. 

Emma tightens her hand against Regina’s hip, digging her fingertips into the soft, smooth skin stretched tight across the bone, and shifts so that she’s lying on top of her, Regina’s breasts flattening against her chest. 

The room is darker than usual, the moonlight hidden behind clouds, and the room is quiet except for the ragged sounds of their breathing and the muffled sound of the waves crashing against the hull. 

Regina’s got one hand fisted in the fabric of Emma’s t-shirt, pulling so hard that it’s a wonder she doesn’t rip it, but then she’s pushing it up over Emma’s head, the two of them breaking apart for just as long as it takes for Regina’s to take the shirt off of her. Their legs are tangled under the covers, knees and ankles bumping gracelessly together, and Emma pulls at the hem of Regina’s tank top, suddenly, desperately needing to feel Regina’s skin against hers. 

She clings to Regina, warmth pooling wet and desperate between her legs, and maybe she should try to slow down, but Emma knows that this might be the last time for the two of them, that things are going to change after tomorrow, no matter what happens, and she can’t bring herself to stop. So instead, she slides one hand up to cup Regina’s breast, stroking her thumb along the hard nub of her nipple, circling back and forth, until Regina’s gasping into her mouth. Emma presses her knee insistently between Regina’s thighs as Regina rocks against her, the rhythm of her hips growing desperate and irregular until she’s shuddering and shaking beneath her. 

Emma keeps touching her, keeps kissing her, until Regina gets enough leverage to flip them over, Emma’s back suddenly against the bed. Everything feels like it’s happening too fast, like this is more serious than it’s ever been, and the ship is rocking gently beneath them, and it’s like she’s falling, this strange, shifting vertigo that takes her breath away.

Regina moves down Emma’s body, trailing kisses along her throat, her chest, brushing her mouth along the curves of her body until she’s flicking her tongue teasingly against the sensitive skin near her hip.

“Please,” she says, and she doesn’t recognize her voice, low and desperate and shaky. “Please, Regina.”

She feels Regina smile, her lips curving against Emma’s skin, and then she’s moving lower and lower, her mouth hot and wet, and Emma closes her eyes and tightens her hand in Regina’s hair, urging her on, pressing her closer and closer and closer, Regina's tongue moving against her until everything goes bright and white and electric. 

Afterwards, they lie together in the bunk as they come down, their skin damp and their breath slowing down. Regina’s got her back to her, but Emma has her arm around her waist, their fingers intertwined.

Outside, the sky is already starting to turn grey, the cabin getting lighter with the dawn, and this is it, she knows, this is the end of whatever has been happening between.

She thinks about what Gold said again, briefly considering telling Regina, but she can't bring herself to do it. It's been a strange few weeks and she can feel Regina's heartbeat through her back, but magic doesn't work in Neverland and nothing is going to change that.

So she doesn't say anything, just leans her forehead against the nape of Regina’s neck and presses a soft kiss to the top of her spine, and it’s not true love, Emma reminds herself, it’s _not_ , but she holds Regina close to her as she closes her eyes, concentrating on the bright, ocean-salt taste of Regina’s skin against her lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma barely sleeps, too restless about the mission to do much except lie in bed and go over the plan over and over again in her head. Beside her, Regina shifts restlessly. Her majesty has spent most of the night tossing and turning and mumbling words in her sleep that Emma can’t quite make out. 

The light coming in through the porthole is starting to turn grey, and Emma starts to feel a little sick. Their plan is...not good. She knows this. She knows that just walking into the village of Lost Ones, of just trying to sneak Henry out with nothing but some arrows and swords on their sides is practically suicide. 

But she also knows that they don’t have another plan and they might be running of out time. It’s been months since Henry was taken, since they first traveled through the portal, and even though they still have no idea why Greg and Tamara took Henry, it probably wasn’t to just lock him in an empty room. So, they have to go now. 

By the time the light coming into the room has turned a pale, watery orange, Regina’s woken up, blinking sleepily at Emma.

“Today’s the day,” she says, and her voice is scratchy from sleep and there are pillow marks crisscrossing her cheek, and she looks almost absurdly beautiful in the early morning light. 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, nodding her head and trying to keep her voice steady. “Today’s the day.”

Regina blinks at her and Emma reaches over to tuck a loose strand of shiny brown hair behind Regina’s ear. When her fingers touch Regina’s skin, she feels a strange, warm buzz, electric and alive. She thinks Regina might feel it too because her mouth turns up in a soft, sleepy smile.

The ship sways gently beneath them, rocking them closer together, and Emma brushes her thumb across the soft, smooth skin below Regina’s ear, trying not to think about what Gold told her last night, trying to ignore the low, intense shimmer of magic already starting to build between her and Regina, hot and alive and as much like love as anything she’s ever felt.

*

Up on the deck, the six of them move around nervously, all of them giving each other some distance, trying to get ready. 

Hook’s up at the helm, the bright orange sun reflecting off the silver where his hand should be, bright and blinding as he steers them closer and closer to Neverland’s shores. David and Mary Margaret are over near the bow, David practicing with his sword and Mary Margaret shooting arrow after arrow into the vast blue-green water of the sea. Gold is leaning against the deck rail, squinting into the sun, watching the island with a careful, shrewd look. Regina’s across the deck from him, leaning on the rail as well, but she’s staring down at the water, her back to Neverland. Emma watches her for a couple of minutes, staring at the straight, tense line of her back, watching her as they sail closer and closer towards Henry. Eventually, Emma makes her way over to her, very conscious of where everyone else is on the ship. 

“Hey,” Emma says, leaning on the rail next to her, their elbows pressing up against each other, pushing hard against the flaking yellow paint of the wood. “You okay.”

“I’m fine,” Regina says, but she’s still looking down at the water and her face looks a little grey, like her seasickness is back.

Emma nods. “You sure?” she asks, bumping her shoulder gently.

Regina swallows hard. “No,” she says, and sighs, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do this. “At least –” she stops and glances at Emma sidelong “– at least not without magic.” 

“Oh,” is all Emma says, and she thinks again about what Gold told her last night, about true love and the possibility for magic.

“Yes,” Regina says. “Oh.”

“What if,” Emma starts, then stops. Regina turns to look at her, and she clears her throat. “What if there was a way?”

“A way to bring magic to Neverland?” Regina looks skeptical, eyebrow quirked and arms crossed over her chest.

Emma nods, her mouth feeling suddenly dry. It's just, there doesn't seem to be much point in not saying something. Especially since the worst that could happen is that Regina mocks her (and breaks her heart, of course), but. Well. If it could help them save Henry...Emma takes a breath, steeling herself. Finally: “Gold told me...” she starts, licking her lips nervously and trying not to notice the way that Regina’s eyes flick down to her mouth. She scrubs a hand across her face. “He told me that true love...true love could bring magic to Neverland,” she says, looking right at Regina in challenge. If she wants to mock her, she can do it to her face.

Instead, Regina rolls her eyes, which is not exactly the reaction Emma was expecting. “Please,” she scoffs. “Those two idiots aren’t going to be able to create magic.”

“Two idiots?” she repeats, confused. It's just...what is she talking about? Is she seriously not going to mention the whole thing where Emma basically just admitted she was in love with her? 

“Right, sorry.” Regina waves her hand dismissively. “Snow White and Prince Charming," she says, a mocking lilt to her voice. "No matter how pure their love may be, they can’t create _magic_.”

Oh. Emma blinks. “No, no that’s not...it’s not my parents that Gold was talking about.”

“Then who _was_ he talking about, Miss Swan?” Regina demands. She’s turned away from the water, her chin held high and her hands on her hips. She’s close enough that Emma can feel the heat of her body, the two of them standing toe-to-toe.

Emma doesn’t respond, just raises her eyebrows significantly.

It takes a second, but then Regina seems to get it, her hands dropping from her hips and her eyes going wide. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Emma says wryly. “Oh.”

No one else on the ship is paying them any attention, so Emma takes a chance and reaches over for Regina’s hand. When she touches her, there’s that same little jolt that’s always there, bright and electric, and Regina sucks in a sharp breath, swallowing hard, and looking at Emma with dark, wide eyes. 

And Emma doesn’t know what it means, she doesn’t know if it’s love, but it’s something, and she twines her fingers through Regina’s and, for the first time since Henry disappeared down that portal, she feels something that she thinks might be hope. 

*

They reach shore surprisingly quickly, the ship cutting fast through the water. Gold managed to magick them all up some cloaks, and, with the hoods pulled up and scarves covering their faces, the four of them actually look like they could pass as Lost Ones. There’s a cloak for Henry tucked down under Regina’s supply of arrows, and even though it’s crazy, Emma thinks that this all might work. 

She’s got her sword tucked under the cloak, the hilt bumping reassuringly against her hip as she stands near the helm with her parents and Regina, the four of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder, watching in silence as Neverland looms ever closer. David and Mary Margaret are holding hands, and Emma reaches over to hook her pinkie around Regina’s finger, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze. 

Regina smiles slightly and lets out a slow, shaky breath, closing her eyes as the ship slides up to the dock, the hull bumping roughly against the slip.

The port looks wrong, empty and eerily silent. It doesn’t feel right, and a knot of anxiety forms in her throat. 

“Where is everyone?” she asks. She’s whispering without quite meaning to, afraid to break the silence all around them.

“It’s an old dock,” Hook says easily, but she can hear an edge to his voice, something nervous and unsure. “Most likely abandoned eons ago.”

“You sure about that?” Regina demands, and Mary Margaret gives her a worried look. 

“Of course,” Hook says. He swallows hard and doesn’t look at any of them as he starts getting the ropes ready to secure the _Jolly Roger_ to the deck, the ship bumping softly against the worn, grey wood. 

None of them says anything for a minute, the six of them just staring at the island. Past the dock, there’s an old village, apparently a ghost town, the buildings run-down and dilapidated, roofs caved in and windows broken. It’s not the same place Emma saw in the mirror, the roads too overgrown, the buildings too worn.

Finally, Gold clears his throat, tapping his cane quietly along the deck. “Okay, children,” he says, and his voice is strangely subdued. “Time to go save the day.”

It’s enough to snap them out of whatever trance they’re in, and Emma blinks, shaking her head to clear it a little. 

Beside her, Mary Margaret adjusts the quiver of arrows strapped to her back, squaring her shoulders and tipping her head back slightly to peer out from under her hood. “Okay,” she says, and she sounds so competent and assured that it makes the knot in Emma’s throat ease up a little. “Let’s go.” 

Emma nods as Mary Margaret marches forward, her head high, David following just a step behind her. Regina goes next, and then Emma’s following her off the ship, stepping carefully across the water-slick deck. She’s got one foot braced against the dock when she hears Gold limp up behind her. 

“Remember what I said,” he tells her, and he’s not smiling, not at all, and she nods in understanding, her heart racing in her chest.

“I will,” she tells him, and then the corner of his mouth does quirk up in a smile.

“Good luck, Miss Swan,” he says, taking a step back and folding his hands over the gold handle of his cane. “I fear you’re going to need it.” 

Emma takes a deep breath and steps onto the dock, the ship disappearing behind her into the cloaking spell, the old dock swaying dangerously under her feet. The other three are waiting for her, and she starts a little when she sees them, their faces hidden under the cloaks. 

“Everything okay?” David asks, and Emma nods, flicking her eyes over at Regina. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Let’s go.”

*

It takes a little while for Emma to orient herself, but Mary Margaret leads them through the jungle with confidence, moving through the trees with purpose. 

It’s not as silent in the jungle, which is somehow reassuring, birds singing and animals rustling around through the undergrowth. When they finally make it to the village – the one Emma recognizes from her mirror-watching with Regina – they all stop, standing far enough in the shadows that no one should be able to see them.

“What now?” Emma says. It’s so strange, seeing the village like this for real, not just in the mirror, like some bizarro version of something she only saw in a dream. 

“Now we get Henry,” David says. Like Mary Margaret, he seems confident, sure of himself. Emma guesses maybe you get used to this hero thing after a while. “You and Regina go into the town. Mary Margaret and I will stay out here, keep an eye out for trouble. You think you can find where he is?”

“We can find him,” Regina says. Her voice is muffled under the cloak, but Emma can see the hard glint in her eye, determined and sure. 

“Good,” Mary Margaret says, reaching behind her to grab an arrow from the quiver, stringing it onto her bow, before giving Emma a reassuring nod. “We’ll be waiting.”

“Okay.” Emma says, taking a deep breath and giving her parents one last, significant look before turning to Regina. “Ready, Your Majesty?”

Regina’s eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and Emma can tell she’s smiling under the scarf. “Let’s go save our son, Miss Swan.” 

The streets are dusty and the strong, musky smell of livestock hangs in the air, and Emma has to breath through her mouth to keep from gagging. Beside her, Regina moves with purpose, keeping her head down to hide her face. 

For the most part, no one seems to pay them any mind, the two of them blending in with all of the other Lost Ones roaming the streets. Most of the people are dressed just like them – cloaks and hoods – but occasionally someone will brush past in jeans or a t-shirt, looking odd and out of place, and Emma knows they're probably from the real world, people who must be working with Greg and Tamara. It takes everything in her not to grab one of them and demand they give them Henry. 

Emma tries to keep her head down, tries to act normal and natural. Her heart is pounding in her ears, beating so loud she’s surprised everyone on the street can’t hear it. She keeps expecting to be caught, expecting for someone to grab them, but no one does, and in practically no time at all, she and Regina are at the building from the mirror, the one where Henry’s being held. There’s a staircase leading up to a door on the second floor, and before Regina starts up it, she glances back at Emma, who just nods at her. 

On the road behind them, the Lost Ones move in loose packs, laughing and joking and acting so normal it makes Emma’s head hurt. But even when they move up the stairs, no one says anything, and then they’re at the top and Regina’s pushing the door open (it’s not locked, which seems strange, but Emma doesn’t give it too much thought) and Henry’s there, just sitting on the bare floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. 

When she sees him, Emma feels a sob catch in her throat. Regina’s already racing toward him, but he’s curling in on himself, holding tight onto his knees as he stares at the ground, and it takes Emma a second to realize he doesn’t recognize them, that he can’t see their faces under the cloaks.

“Leave me alone!” Henry yells. “I don’t want--” but then Regina’s clutching him to her, and Emma pushes her hood down so he can see it’s her, and his eyes go wide and startled. 

“Mom?” he says, and he’s staring at Emma, looking confused. He’s still just sitting there even as Regina hugs him tight. 

“Hey, kid,” Emma says, and she swallows hard, trying to keep herself from crying. Henry beams up at her, and she feels a tear snake its way down her face, hot and wet. 

“Henry?” Regina says, and he whips his head back around to look at her. 

“Mom?” he says again, but it sounds different this time, different than when he said it to Emma, and Regina gasps out a sob and he hugs her back, the two of them holding each other tight. And for just a moment, Emma feels strange, like she’s intruding on something she shouldn’t, but then Regina’s looking over her shoulder at her, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“We found him,” she says, her face still hidden by the scarf, but Emma can tell she’s smiling. “We found him.”

“We did,” Emma agrees, and she’s smiling so wide that her face hurts. And then she’s sitting down next to them, one arm around Regina and the other around Henry, the three of them holding onto each other as tightly as they can. 

*

Getting Henry out goes just as smoothly as getting in did; they dress him in the cloak and he walks between Regina and Emma, keeping his head down, the hood and scarf covering most of his face. 

No one stops them, no one says anything at all to them, and it should be a relief, but it just makes Emma feel kind of on edge, like there’s something wrong. It shouldn’t be this easy. Nothing is ever this easy. By the time they get to the copse of trees where they left David and Mary Margaret, Emma’s started to feel a little panicky, worried they won’t be there, worried something has happened since they left them.

But they’re fine, both of them still crouching among the trees. When they spot them walking towards them, they both reach for their weapons. It takes them a second, but when they recognize them, they’re rushing towards them, both of them reaching for Henry.

“You did it,” David says, and Emma can see that he’s grinning under his cloak. “You found him!”

“Of course, we found him,” Regina says, and Emma nudges her hard with her elbow. Regina rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything else, which Emma guesses is about as much as she can hope for.

“Let’s just get back to the ship,” she says, and David and Mary Margaret nod, both of them snapping back into warrior mode. 

On the way back through the jungle, they keep Henry ensconced between them, Mary Margaret and David taking the lead, while Regina and Emma follow behind, Henry walking securely between the two groups. Emma watches him as he walks, noticing the way he holds himself now, slightly different than before, the lines of his back under the cloak strong and confident and somehow older.

“He looks older, doesn’t he?” Regina suddenly says, and Emma starts a little at that. Geez, she hopes Regina hasn’t picked up mindreading in addition to her normal bag of tricks. Given the new direction of their relationship, that could be...awkward.

Emma clears her throat. “He does,” she agrees, and then they lapse into silence again as they watch Henry maneuver his way through the trees.

The walk through the jungle is uneventful, which should make Emma feel better, but just makes her feel kind of tense and on-edge. There’s no way this should be this easy, not after everything Greg and Tamara did back in Storybrooke, not after everything they did to get their hands on Henry. Something’s not right, Emma knows, but she can’t figure out what the hell it might be or how she’s supposed to do anything about it. A hot, tight knot of anxiety is starting to form in her stomach, getting bigger and bigger with every step they take.

“Something’s wrong,” Regina says under her breath, that whole mind-reading thing apparently still happening. She says it low enough that Henry doesn’t hear, but Emma can tell Regina’s just as panicked as she is.

“What?” Emma whispers back.

“This is too easy,” Regina says, looking around, worried, her eyes wide and dark. Around them, the jungle is quiet, their footsteps the only sounds they can hear.

The knot in Emma’s stomach tightens. “That’s what I was thinking,” she admits, and Regina shoots her a worried glance. “But what can we do?”

Regina shakes her head. “Nothing. Just...” she glances behind them and then back over at Emma. “Something’s not right.”

Emma nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I know.”

But they make it through the jungle without incident, despite the fact that Emma and Regina spend the whole time on edge, Emma’s hand gripping the hilt of her sword under her cloak, ready in case of attack. But the attack never comes, and by the time they can see the sea through the trees, the knot in her stomach is starting to fade and she starts to believe that this is actually going to work okay. 

She keeps right on believing that right up until they step onto the dock and the _Jolly Roger_ comes fully into view. The ship looks strange, too dark, and it takes her a second to realize what she’s seeing, the dark spots coalescing into figures, masses of the Lost Ones, everywhere she looks. She turns around, fast, but they're behind them as well, forming a wall between them and the ghost town behind them, trapping them on the old, rickety dock with nowhere to go. 

Emma turns her attention back to the ship, noticing for the first time that Gold and Hook are there, on their knees in the middle of the deck, their hands bound in front of them. Behind them, Greg and Tamara have pistols pointed at the backs of their heads, the guns gleaming slick and deadly in the late afternoon sunlight.


	9. Chapter 9

When they realize what's happening -- realize that they've walked into a trap, that Peter Pan has probably been planning this all along -- none of them move, all five of them frozen right where they are on the docks. They’re standing so that Henry’s between all of them, protected as best he can be, the four of them gathering around him in a tight circle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma sees Mary Margaret take a half a step back, shielding herself behind David as she reaches up to slide an arrow out of her quiver. She’s already got it strung on the bow when Peter Pan grins, his face lighting up, making him looking young and mischievous.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you, _Snow White,_ ” he calls, and then his smile gets wider and brighter, his teeth bared, turning his expression into something much older and much more threatening. 

Mary Margaret doesn't back down, her arm tensing as she prepares to loose the arrow. As she does, Pan nods once, a quick jerk of his head, and Greg and Tamara pull the hammers back on their guns, the sound of the pistols being cocked echoing loudly through the jungle behind them. Mary Margaret freezes, cutting her eyes over to David, the two of them doing some kind of silent communication thing.

“As I said,” Pan says, his mouth still pulled into that rictus grin. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

Mary Margaret hesitates, lowering her weapon, but even as she does, Regina moves forward, stepping in front of her. She’s got the arrow strung on the bow before Emma even registers what’s happening, her arm snapping back to release the shot, the crack of the bowstring echoing all around them. 

The arrow’s heading straight for Pan, moving swiftly towards his heart, and it’s like everything slows down, time suddenly at a crawl. And then a dark figure swoops down in front of him, appearing out of nowhere and snatching the arrow out of the air when it’s only inches from Pan’s chest, the arrow clattering down to the ship's deck, bouncing on the water-slick wood.

“Try that again and I’ll destroy you, witch!” Pan screams, his voice shrill. It’s then that Emma notices the other shadows that surround them, dark figures lurking just at her periphery, moving and flickering out of sight whenever she tries to look at them head-on. 

Beside her, Regina slides another arrow out of the quiver strapped to her back, and Henry flinches, cowering towards Emma. 

“ _Regina,_ ” Emma hisses, but Regina doesn’t even glance in her direction, just readies her next shot. 

But before she can take it, Pan laughs and shakes his head, and, then the weapons are just...gone -- not just Regina's, but the Mary Margaret's bow and Emma and David's swords -- all of them suddenly unarmed, a thin trail of black-grey smoke the only sign of whatever magic Peter Pan wields. 

On the deck of the ship, Gold blinks, one corner of his mouth turning up in what Emma thinks might be a smile. He's twisting his wrists slightly, working against his bonds, the movement so small Tamara doesn't seem to notice, just keeps her gun trained steadily on the back of his head.

Pan's still smiling, this look on his face like he's enjoying all of this immensely. Emma senses the change in Regina before she sees it -- the way her chin tilts up, her back going ramrod straight, her hand ups, palms towards the ship, the motion familiar from their time in Storybrooke -- and Emma braces herself for the telltale purple smoke of Regina’s magic. But...nothing happens, Regina just stands there with her hands impotently raised at Pan as he laughs, cold and mocking. 

“Your magic won’t work here, Your Majesty,” Pan calls. “You have no reign over Neverland. This place is beyond your reach.”

“We’ll see about that, Peter Pan,” Regina says, her eyes hard. The shadows have started to solidify in Emma's periphery, growing more distinct by the second. 

“The boy’s mine,” he says easily, and she sees Gold narrow his eyes, a look on his face that would send any one of Storybrooke’s good citizens cowering. But Peter Pan doesn’t flinch, even as, around him, some of the Lost Ones shift nervously, casting quick glances in his direction and then back at the shadow-figures.

“He is _ours_ ,” Regina retorts fiercely, and the four of them shift closer together, tightening ranks. 

“Is that true, Henry?” Pan asks, and Emma freezes. Beside her, so does Henry.

“Yes,” he says desperately. “Yes, I want to go with them. Please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he says. 

Pan nods to himself, clasping his hands behind his back and taking a few steps in their direction. “What about the fights?”

Henry swallows hard, cutting his eyes in the direction of Emma and Regina. “Wh-what fights?”

“Between your mothers,” Pan says gently. 

“How do you know about that?” Henry’s voice has gone quiet, his eyes staring down at the splintering wood beneath his feet. 

“I know a lot about you, Henry.” Pan’s smiling kindly at him, all his attention focused on Henry. “I’ve spent a long time looking for you.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re special, Henry,” he says, and Henry glances up at him, his forehead creased in thought. “You know that, right?”

Henry doesn’t respond, just watches Pan carefully as he makes his way slowly across the deck of the _Jolly Roger_. 

“Your mothers have no idea how special you are,” Pan continues, and Emma hopes he keeps walking closer to them, close enough so that she can smash her fist into his smug little face. 

“They love me,” Henry says, his voice steady and sure. 

Pan’s steps falter just a little, the pause so slight Emma almost doesn’t notice. “They _abandoned_ you.” 

“I _never_ abandoned him,” Regina says, and Emma swallows hard and looks down at her feet, a strange, cold tightness in her chest. 

“You LIED to him,” Pan screams. “You lied to him about _everything._ ”

“No,” Henry says desperately. "No, they...it wasn’t -- it’s not like that!" His voice is very loud and he sounds unsure, confused and very, very young.

Pan shakes his head and sighs. “That’s just what parents do, Henry,” he says sadly. “They trick you and they lie to you and they try to turn into people just like them. Into _grownups,_ ” he spits, like the word is a curse. Henry's watching him closely, his eyes wide and bright and focused only on Pan. When she glances down, she sees that his feet are starting to shift, like he's being drawn towards Pan despite himself.

Things are getting out of control, Emma realizes. The shadows are moving closer, inching nearer and nearer to them, shifting so subtly that none of them really notice the darkness beginning to overtake the docks, and Henry’s still just watching Pan, his eyes trained on the older boy, a look on his face that she can't parse. 

“Henry,” Emma says, and when he looks at her, his eyes are wide and glassy and strangely blank. Christ, what the hell is going on? “Don’t listen to him, okay, kid?” she tells him. “We love you and we came here to save you, and we’re all going to go home together, okay?”

Henry blinks and then he nods, his head bobbing up and down. When he glances over at Regina, she smiles, and that seems to decide him. “Okay,” he says quietly, like he’s talking to himself. “Okay.”

Pan's still walking towards them, his feet not making any sound at all as he moves across the deck. “I know you think they care about you, but –”

“You kidnapped me!” Henry shouts, interrupting him. “You locked me in a room!”

Emma smiles grimly. _That’s it, kid. Stay strong._

Pan cuts his eyes at Greg, who flinches and takes a nervous step back. “I’m sorry about that, Henry,” Pan says. He doesn’t spare Greg another glance, but Greg shrinks back anyway, folding in on himself, taking another step away from Peter Pan, his gun wavering just slightly from where it's pointed at Hook. “I really am. That wasn’t supposed to happen. And the people responsible will be punished.” 

“Don’t listen to him, Henry,” Regina says, turning away from Pan for the first time. Her eyes are bright and red-rimmed as she looks at Henry. “He’s a monster, he won’t help you. He just wants to steal you from us. You can’t let him do that, okay?” 

She sounds desperate, and Emma reaches out and brushes her fingertips along her wrist, the soft buzz of electricity glancing off her skin. Henry’s eyes flicker down to where Emma and Regina are touching and then he blinks, looking up at the two of them with what Emma thinks might be hope.

“Shut up!” Pan screams wildly. Around them, the shadows have started to advance, getting darker and more real-looking every second, solidifying as they approach the docks. And this is it, Emma knows, these shadows can’t be defeated, they can’t be contained, not without magic. Regina must realize it too, because she raises her hands again, palms out towards Pan. 

Emma can feel it, the emotion radiating from her, buzzing and electric and palpable, so much like that day in the mines. It makes her skin hum and her breath catch in her throat and she almost believes Regina’s going to do it -- that she’s going to make magic where it’s impossible -- but nothing happens, her hands held impotently out at Pan. The shadows are closer now, their fingers reaching out towards them as David clenches his fists and Mary Margaret reaches for her now-gone bow, neither one of them able to fight against whatever dark magic Pan has harnessed. 

“ _Emma_ ,” Gold says, sharply, a command. And he’s moving, sliding his hands through the air in an intricate pattern, a thin mist of glittering black smoke rising from his palms before Tamara realizes what's happening. By the time she does -- by the time she pulls the trigger, the gunshot cracking almost impossibly loud even through all the commotion -- it’s already too late. Gold doesn’t flinch when the bullet hits him, and the smoke grows thicker and brighter, the electric scent of magic starting to overpower the sea-salt air. 

Emma doesn’t think -- doesn’t second guess Gold or bother questioning if its true love or what that might mean -- she just reaches out and takes one of Regina’s hands in hers, threading their fingers together, holding on as tightly as she can. Her heart's fluttering wildly in her chest, pounding so fast and so hard she almost can't breathe, and she feels more alive than she ever has, complete and real and whole. Regina's skin is hot against hers and her eyes are dark and shining and, just like that, Emma knows this is what's always meant to happen, that this is what she's been moving towards since forever.

The light that erupts between them is blinding, hot and powerful and alive, so bright that it even blots out the sun, the sky filled with a shining, violet glimmer that obliterates everything else, the shadows bursting into nothingness as the world explodes all around them.

*

Emma’s not sure what happened, not exactly, not beyond the magic and the light, but the next thing she knows, they’re back in Storybrooke, all of them somehow transported from the dock in Neverland to the docks in Maine, the air cold and salty and so familiar it makes Emma catch her breath.

“What the hell just happened?” she says. She’s shaking, intense shivers shuddering through her body, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the magic or the realm jumping or just...she and Regina are still holding hands, the magic still sparking between them, these bright jolts buzzing against her fingertips, and she gives Regina's hand a quick squeeze before she lets go, trying to get her bearings. 

Beside her, Regina blinks, bewildered, apparently just as confused as Emma is. The ground feels weirdly solid beneath her feet.

“We’re home!” Henry says. “We did it!” He’s still standing in beside them, grinning, triumphant, and he throws himself at her and Regina, his body warm and solid against Emma. 

Mary Margaret and David are looking stunned, both of them squinting into the late afternoon sunlight. Hook’s beside them as well, shocked into silence for what Emma thinks might be the first time in his life. He looks at them and grins, and they’re all so giddy about the whole thing that it takes a couple of seconds for any of them to realize that Gold’s not sharing in the triumph. 

For a moment, Emma wonders if maybe he didn’t make it, if he got left behind in Neverland somehow, but then she sees him, lying on the dock a few yards away, the whole left side of his body slick and red with blood. His cane lies on the ground next to him, the gold handle bright against the grey wood of the dock. He looks very old and very small, so far from the rest of them, his eyes closed and his face grey and still. 

“Grandpa?” Henry says, and the way that his voice trembles makes Emma’s heart stutter in her chest. 

Gold’s still breathing when they get to him, but just barely, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, and Henry’s begging them to do something, to fix him, and when Regina takes her hand, Emma hopes, for Henry's sake, that the magic that flows from them to Gold will be enough to save him.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they make it over to Gold, he’s barely breathing, his face ashen and still, the blood from the gunshot wound pooling blackish-red on the dock beneath him. 

She and Regina have their hands clasped as the magic flows between them, and Henry’s started to cry softly, and Emma tightens her hands in Regina, grasping her fingers has tightly as she can. 

The magic glows bright and hot and alive, violet and sparkling in the cool New England air, and Emma just registers Gold gasping, his eyes blinking open, before her vision starts to black out, everything going hazy at the edges before the darkness overtakes her.

*

When Emma wakes up, it’s dark, and she’s not on the street and she’s not on the ship, but beyond that, she’s got no idea what’s going on. Her head hurts, a dull pain just behind her right eye, and she’s so tired she can barely move, her limbs feeling almost impossibly heavy. 

“You’re awake.” Regina’s voice cuts through the confusion, and after just a second, Emma realizes Regina’s there beside her, holding Emma’s hand in one of hers, her skin cool and soft against Emma’s as she strokes her thumb gently across Emma’s knuckles. Emma probably just imagines the tremor in her voice, the way she swallows hard, like she was seriously worried about her, even though there wasn't really anything to worry about at all. Emma just fainted, the exhaustion from the past couple of days finally catching up with her.

“I am,” Emma confirms, blinking into the darkness, trying to get her bearings. She’s on a bed, a nice bed, soft and clean and white, smelling vaguely of laundry detergent. "Gold?" she asks. "Is he...?"

““He'll live,” Regina says, sounding less-than-thrilled about that, but Emma lets out a shaky, relieved breath. It's just...Henry's been through enough without having to watch his grandfather bleed to death in front of him.

Regina's sitting in a chair by the bed, looking a little bedraggled, her hair still stiff with seawater, her cheeks pink from the sun. She looks beautiful. The thought comes to Emma unbidden and reflexive, and it’s strange, this idea that they’re back now, that they’ve got to figure out what they are now, what they should do about, well. About everything that’s happened.

“What’s --” she starts, but then the door bursts open, so much light streaming in that Emma closes her eyes just as Regina drops her hand, pulling away hastily. 

“Mom!” Henry says, and then he’s running over to her, throwing himself on the bed, his weight solid and familiar and comforting against her. 

“Hey kid,” Emma says, relief coursing through her as he presses her face against her neck. He’s here, he’s alive and he’s safe and they did it. They brought him back. 

“You’re okay.” He’s smiling at her, looking impossibly young and innocent. 

“I’m okay,” Emma says, forcing herself to let him go, not to crush him to her forever. 

“She’s okay,” Regina confirms, and Emma can’t stop herself from smiling. They’re all smiling, actually, the three of them just grinning at each other like loons. 

Henry hugs her again and then he’s gone, heading toward the door and calling out, “She’s awake!”

Emma doesn’t even get a chance to ask him who he’s talking to before Mary Margaret and David are there, both of them throwing their arms around her, holding her close like they’ll never let her go. 

“We were so _worried_ ,” Mary Margaret says, her voice breaking in a way that makes Emma’s heart lurch, and her hands clutch at her parents’ backs. 

“I’m alright,” Emma says, and she really, really is. She’s fine and Henry’s safe and they’re all there, everyone she loves, right there in that one room, and she thinks that maybe everything is going to be okay.

"You're sure you're okay?" David asks, he and Mary Margaret perching beside her on the bed, and it's still so strange, how much they care about her, how it feels to have parents who love her and worry about her.

"I'm sure," Emma says, smiling a little.

Mary Margaret smiles back, nodding a little, as she brushes a tear off her cheek. "Then let's get you home."

She starts to put her arm behind Emma's back, trying to help her up, but then Regina's beside them, putting one hand on Emma's arm.

“I think Miss Swan should stay here until she’s more fully healed.”

“Regina--” Mary Margaret starts, just as David says, “She needs to be with her family.”

Regina blinks, her face hardening, taking on the kind of icy-coolness that Emma hasn’t seen in months, since before they left for Neverland. Henry’s looking around anxiously, his eyes wide and panicked, like he’s trying to figure out what he should do.

So: “I think,” Emma says quickly, before anyone else has a chance to talk. Four pairs of eyes turn to look at her and she takes a deep, steadying breath. “I think I should stay.”

And the hurt look on David’s and Mary Margaret’s faces is almost enough for her to change her mind. Almost. But then she sees Henry smile, just a little, just his mouth turned up at the corner and that’s enough for her. Because she knows this is complicated and fraught, she knows there’s no way that whatever is going on between her and Regina is going to go smoothly, but she also knows that Henry is what matters here, he's what's important. All of these blood-feuds and decades-old fairy tale dramas can wait. 

It takes a while for her to convince her parents that it’s okay, that staying with Regina is for the best, but Emma does manage to convince them, and Regina leaves them alone as David and Mary Margaret hug her and Henry, making them both promise to call if they need anything, anything at all. 

*

Once they leave, once it’s just her and Henry and Regina, Emma starts to feel just a little panicked. 

Staying with Regina made perfect sense just a couple of minutes ago, with Henry looking at them all with wide, anxious eyes and her parents and Regina glaring at daggers at each other, but now…now Emma’s starting to realize that she basically chose Regina over her parents. That she’s living with Regina. 

“How long are you going to stay?” Henry asks, snapping Emma out of her panic spiral. He’s sitting next to her on the bed, looking hopeful and maybe a little excited, like he’s reading a little too much into this whole staying with Regina thing.

Emma shrugs and gives him a soft smile. “I’m not sure, kid,” she tells him and can’t help darting a quick glance at Regina. She’s just watching the two of them, a look on her face that Emma can’t quite read.

Beside her, Henry yawns hugely, looking suddenly very young and very tired. 

“Time for bed, Henry,” Regina says, coming over to the bed and putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You can see Emma again in the morning.”

Henry looks up at her and then back at Emma. “You’ll still be here?”

Emma smiles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Henry nods, and then he’s throwing himself at her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face close against her neck. Emma hugs him back fiercely, holding him as tightly as she can manage despite her exhaustion. 

“I love you, Mom,” he says, and Emma’s heart stutters in her chest.

“I love you too, kid,” she says and it’s almost strange how not-strange it feels to say that, how much she does love him, this kid she’s almost lost too many times. 

Regina stays where she is, watching them with that hard-to-read expression, until Henry pulls away from Emma, and the two of them head down the hall to his room.

*

Emma doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she must because the next thing she knows, Regina’s in her room again, and she’s sliding into the bed next to her.

She’s changed into her pajamas, the silky fabric brushing softly against Emma’s bare arms, and she smells like soap and laundry detergent, so much different than she did on the ship. 

“Hey,” Emma mumbles, rolling onto her side so that she and Regina are face-to-face. It’s still dark, barely enough light in the room for her to make out the silhouette of Regina beside her.

“Hey,” Regina says, her voice so low that Emma can barely hear it. She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair off of Emma’s forehead, her fingers cool and gentle against her skin. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” As she says it, Emma realizes it’s true. She does feel better, that horrible exhaustion from before almost completely faded away. “How are you doing?”

Regina laughs, a low, throaty sound that makes Emma’s breath catch in her throat. “I’m fine, Miss Swan,” she says and even though Emma can’t see her in the darkness, she can tell Regina’s smiling. “I’m glad you decided to stay.”

“Me too,” Emma admits, and it’s so strange, how all of this is still happening, how it didn’t just stop when they got back to Storybrooke. 

Emma reaches out and puts her hand on the sharp line of Regina’s hip, her fingers curling against the silk of Regina’s pajamas, relishing the feel of Regina’s body next to hers, real and solid. 

It’s strange, the two of them like this here, back in the real world where things seem much more complicated than they ever did back on the ship. She wants to say something about that to Regina -- maybe ask her what they should do next, talk about how things are different now -- but instead she just leans over and presses a soft kiss against Regina’s mouth, smiling a little at Regina’s sharp intake of breath. 

She tastes the same here, Emma realizes, like saltwater and magic, and being with her like this, just the two of them alone in the dark, just makes everything seem so much easier than it actually is. Because things are complicated and confusing and completely messed-up, but then somehow they’re not when they’re like this. 

When Regina opens her mouth under hers, tracing her tongue lightly against Emma’s lower lip, and Emma starts to feel warm, her skin tingling, the magic sparking between them, growing stronger every second, building and building throughout her body. Emma doesn’t know why this is happening -- the magic coming to her unbidden -- but it’s like she can’t seem to control it, and she starts to feel a little panicked, her heart pounding in her chest, until Regina reaches down and twines their fingers together, squeezing Emma’s hand gently and then running her thumb over the back of her knuckles, stroking it back and forth until Emma starts to feel a little more under control.

“Whoa,” Emma finally says, pulling back just enough so that she can talk.

Regina’s just a silhouette in the darkness, her breath puffing warmly against Emma’s lips. “You’re going to need to learn some self-control, Miss Swan,” she says, and Emma feels her smile even if she can’t see it, Regina’s lips curving against her mouth. 

Emma smiles back, tilting her head up until they’re cheek to cheek, Emma’s hand still on Regina’s hip. “And I take it you’re going to teach me?” she asks, tracing her tongue lightly over the shell of Regina’s ear.

Regina gasps, her hips pressing close against Emma’s, and suddenly she can feel the magic inside of her again, pulsing hot and alive, her heart drumming in her chest like it’s been kick-started. When Regina moves again, sliding one knee between Emma’s legs, she feels the magic starts to grow, getting hotter and bigger, so intense that it feels like it’s going to burst out of her.

The magic sparks bright in the darkness, flickering out of her fingertips and making Regina jerk against her. 

“Sorry,” Emma whispers desperately, trying to pull away a little, trying to get it under control. “I’m sorry, I can’t --” 

Her heart’s still beating way too fast and her skin feels like it’s too tight, and she’s not sure how long she’s going to be able to keep it contained, and she has no idea what to do, everything feeling too much, too overwhelming, but then Regina’s pulling her to her again, cupping one hand against the back of her neck like she’s trying to steady her. 

“Relax,” she says, and it sounds like she might be smiling. She brushes a quick kiss against Emma’s lips, a brief violet spark flickering between them and making Emma gasp, but it doesn’t explode between them, and it’s like the magic inside of her responds, like it’s trying to meet Regina’s. “Just let it happen.” 

And so Emma does, she stops trying to fight it, stops trying to force it to stay inside of her, just concentrates on the feel of Regina beside her, the feel of her skin against Emma’s, and the magic starts flow between them, strong and steady and bright.

**

end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read this story (and especially to everyone who commented and kudos-ed)! 
> 
> Sorry these last couple of updates were kind of slow, but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it (which was a lot!).


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